Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dated March 17^th, 199X

Dear Sakura,

It’s Waver. Sorry I haven’t been able to reply to your letter last month—I’m scribbling this around midnight, hope you can read my lousy handwriting! I’m still busy compiling all of Professor El-Melloi’s works for publication, but Miss Sophia-Ri told me this so I had to tell you ASAP.

You’ll probably receive a very formal letter in the mail soon, all about how the Mage Association’s been looking into the Grail’s corruption, and how they “commend you for your insight”.

Well, here’s the thing: that’s a half-truth. While Miss Sophia-Ri has been arguing on your behalf as your teacher, and I’ve been trying to get as much information on the Grail as I can, the fact is…we kind-of destroyed the evidence. The Einzberns sure aren’t going to consider their vessel faulty! (I don’t even know if they have a new vessel, that’s how sneaky they’re being.) So the Mage Association’s letter will probably say that the Holy Grail War won’t be tampered with, and that you don’t need to worry about it.

And hey, who knows? They might be right. But, still…just be careful, okay?

Thanks,

Waver Velvet

P.S. Please tell your Mom and Uncle Kariya: thanks for the care package!

---

Gilgamesh can hear the argument raging in Tokiomi Tohsaka’s study from a floor up. It isn’t an unexpected argument, certainly—Rin and Sakura are scant years apart in age, and that brings a competitive streak with it. (The subjects of their arguments are usually trifling matters, such as “who deserves the last slice of cake”, or “who started the fight to begin with”.)

The problem, in this case, is that their scuffle has gone on unabated for an hour, edging toward two.

Gilgamesh debates rolling over onto his belly and smothering the noise with the cushion his head’s nestled atop, but the fireplace is too warm to bother moving. The sitting room is peaceful, with winter afternoon sunlight shining in through the curtains to mix with the crackling hearth.

The letters from Waver and the Mage Association are slightly worn in his hands, having been passed around multiple times since their arrival one after the other. Could Waver’s be the source for their squabble? No, it is very straightforward advice. The Mage Association’s letter, however…that is far more taxing in its overcomplicated prose and half-truths.

Gilgamesh sighs and slowly sits up, the couch barely making a sound as he moves. He places the letters back on the small wood table at the couch’s side, thoroughly sick of rereading them. At least those two have yet to bring me into their tiresome squabble…

“Kariya,” he says softly, glancing at the man purposefully burying himself in writing his article. “When will this tediousness end, do you suppose?”

Kariya’s fingers dance across the typewriter keys, the clack-clack-clacks only just covering the ruckus below. He runs a hand through his slowly graying hair in irritation.

“Hmm…if I had to guess, when Rin accepts that Sakura’s worried for her.” He cocks his head to one side and listens. “Yep, it’s still about Rin’s Command Seals. I’m surprised Rin hasn’t brought you up again, Archer.”

“What is there to argue?” Gilgamesh rests his chin in his hand. “I am contracted with Sakura—that began as pure happenstance. It was certainly not her goal to ‘out-perform’ her elder sister.”

Kariya sighs and turns around in his creaky red chair, draping one arm across the back. Due to finally having access to healthy meals, he’s acquired meat on his bones.

His obsidian-black eyes have a hint of weariness to them. “Aoi said she’d be back in a few hours, right?”

Gilgamesh’s gold ring warms as he twists it around his finger. “Alas, yes. And just when her quiet intensity would be a boon…”

Beneath them, a chair shrieks against stone—someone must have pushed it out of the way. Judging by Rin’s raised voice, it was her doing.

“Stop lying, Sakura! You don’t want me to be a Master because then you’d be wrong.”

Sakura’s response is too quiet to hear—perhaps she hasn’t said anything at all. I would call that an ill omen.

Gilgamesh finally stands up and strides to the basement stairs. His slicked-back hair casts a longer shadow on the closed door, as if reflecting his mounting displeasure.

He considers taking the stairs, to let Rin and Sakura prepare for his arrival, but he opts to teleport instead.

They require something to shake them from this nonsense, it may as well be a burst of gold in their midst!

And so he does, arriving at the study door with folded arms and a stern scowl. His eyes quickly adjust to the candlelit room, the harsh shadows throwing the Tohsaka sisters in ominous relief.

Rin’s long brown twintails swing like banners of war as she turns her glare toward him. Her white shirt and red skirt are rumpled, presumably from digging through the dusty tomes arrayed on the shelves.

Gilgamesh long ago admitted to himself that his bias extended purely toward Sakura, not due to any failing on Rin’s part (she can be as entertaining as Saber, Kariya and Sakura at times). It is simply due to Rin’s unrelenting and miserable perfectionism, enabled by their father’s death.

Yet, there is one blessing to this argument—it brings out this girl’s human side.

Case in point: “Why are you here, Archer? This is between Sakura and I!”

“In other circumstances, I would agree,” Gilgamesh says dryly, not moving an inch. “However, you two have obviously been unable to conclude this argument without outside assistance. Thus, here I am, willing to waste precious leisure time on your behalf.”

Sakura makes a soft sound of discontent. “…You don’t have to, Archer. This isn’t that big a deal!”

Gilgamesh appraises his young Master, two years older than when they first met. In some ways, she hasn’t changed: she still takes after her mother, Aoi, despite having the same hair and eye color as Rin and Tokiomi.

And much like her honorary-uncle Kariya, Sakura is dealing with this argument by pretending it doesn’t exist as soon as someone else gets involved.

Gilgamesh sighs and peers down his nose at her. “Sakura, Kariya and I have heard your endless squabbling through two floors. I assure you, that is something to note.”

Sakura flushes as pink as her sweater dress, stuffing her hands in the side-pockets awkwardly. “…I’m sorry, Archer. It’ll end soon, I promise.”

Rin huffs and thrusts out her hand, showing off the circular Command Seals in the candlelight. They are strikingly similar to Tokiomi’s.

“Then stop telling me to give up my Command Seals, Sakura!”

Sakura’s eyes have a familiar, steely glint to them, dissonant with the fragility in her voice. “But—but Ms. Sola-Ui and Waver both said to be careful, didn’t they? This is weird, the Grail War takes sixty years to begin. So why do you have Command Seals now?”

“One possibility,” Gilgamesh says before Rin can interrupt, “is that our actions in the last war created a paradox. The Servants that perished were few in number, and perhaps the Grail has yet to ‘digest’ them.”

As expected, now that there is a riddle to solve, Rin and Sakura’s argument is temporarily abandoned. Rin lowers her arm and walks over to the table, her eyes clouded in thought.

“…That makes sense, I think. Let’s see: Assassin, Berserker, Caster, Lancer, and Rider…that’s five out of seven. And Saber just disappeared, right? The Grail would know that two’re missing, so maybe it’s thinking this is still the 4^th War.” Rin looks at Sakura accusingly for a moment then shakes her head. “…Sorry, it’s not your fault.”

Sakura smiles in relief.

Rin smiles back, her eyes bright with the glow of ambition. “Think of it this way, Sakura—we can finish what Father started! Wouldn’t he be happy if we won the Grail War together?”

Sakura’s temper flares. Gilgamesh can practically feel her worry for Rin twisting inside his own stomach, a strange feeling. After a tense moment, she lets out a long sigh and heads for the nearest bookshelf, her bangs obscuring her eyes from view.

“Maybe you’re right—maybe I am worrying too much. If something’s wrong, Miss Sophia-Ri would tell me right away—and Kirei too.”

Gilgamesh watches quietly as Sakura begins pulling out books one after the other, still muttering assurances.

Then Sakura lifts her head and says sternly “But if there’s something wrong with the Grail again, you’ll help me, right Rin?”

Rin rests a hand on her hip and looks at Sakura skeptically. “I still say you’re being paranoid, but fine.”

Gilgamesh smiles and strides over to the table. “An excellent choice, both of you. And now we can begin our preparations. We have one year, we shall make the most of it.”

He watches with amusement as Sakura stands with a wobbly book stack in her arms, looking like a creature of leather and parchment from the front. She rests the books on the tabletop with a thump and dusts off her hands primly.

Gilgamesh leans forward to get a closer look. The books’ engraved titles are all in incomprehensible Mage-dialect, save for one: a book of myth and legend, with a painting of a gallant-looking figure emblazoned on the front.

“Ah,” he says, seating himself with a chuckle. “Yes, in this case performing the entertaining research first is an excellent idea. Then the true work begins!”

Sakura and Rin beam at each other from across the table, all disagreements forgotten in their rising excitement.

---

Of course, merely researching Heroic Spirits is all well and good. The rules of the Grail War tend to ensure that what a Master expects, and what they encounter, are very different beasts.

Gilgamesh watches over Sakura and Rin as they prepare for the Holy Grail War. While there is a year to prepare much like last time, neither girl has been idle these past two years.

Sola-Ui has kept her word to be Sakura’s teacher, but after one year abroad homesickness won out, and Sakura returned home to train with Rin instead. She and Rin have continued to practice their Jewel Magecraft, with Rin forging ahead and leaving Sakura behind. 

Naturally, reassurance is in order.

“Mother,” Sakura says one sun-drenched day, as she helps Aoi with tending the garden. “Do you think Rin’s stronger than me?”

Gilgamesh (who has been sunbathing on a somewhat-comfortable lawn chair) watches silently for Aoi’s response.

Aoi rests the watering-can down on the grass, the water sloshing about before settling. She wipes her forehead with the back of her arm, her hair swaying as she moves.

“That’s a difficult question to answer,” Aoi says with gentle sadness, “as both a mother and a regular person…”

“Oh,” Sakura says, looking just as downcast as her mother.

Aoi finally speaks, bending down to stroke Sakura’s hair. “What I do know, Sakura, is that I’m very proud of you both! You and Rin work so hard everyday, and both in different ways…why would I want you to be the same?”

Sakura smiles and leans in to the touch—she still treats Aoi’s affection as an ephemeral thing.

This causes Gilgamesh no end of gnawing vexation, whenever he sees it. It clashes with Aoi’s very existence as a warm-hearted, peaceable person. (And yet, Sakura’s “adoption” is never far from his mind—both parents had to agree to it, after all.) He wonders if this is the price of being in a Mage family; you receive power at the expense of leaving the warmth of affection behind.

Yet another reason why Kariya left Mage society—he doesn’t have the spirit for such a cold life.

---

Through the years, when Kariya has to travel for his freelance work, Gilgamesh follows him. The year of training before the Holy Grail War is no exception. This era is still unbearably ugly, but through Kariya’s thoughtful camera lens he can see some semblance of worth.

All the while, as they traverse through tranquil forests and glistening caves, or review guided tours around the world, Gilgamesh does his best to ensure Kariya does not want for joy or pleasure.

In his time with Kariya, Gilgamesh has learned the subtleties of the title Archer: spoken in a sleepy rumble. Murmured with bright eyes and a flushed face. Mixed with both affection and irritation over drinks. Grumbled with a roll of the eyes as Gilgamesh points out women similar to Aoi. Said with a surprised laugh, as Gilgamesh bequeaths him a new camera lens or other practical gift. (Kariya’s not the type for grandiose trinkets, alas.)

Thus, the King of Heroes spends his days…

---

“I see,” Gilgamesh says into the payphone’s receiver, as Kariya paces back and forth in the shadow of the London Science Museum. “Rin is in need of a Catalyst. We contacted you at the right time, then.”

Sakura’s noise of agreement sounds tinny over the phone. “Unfortunately, the Clock Tower’s Summoning Department is backed up! More Masters got their Command Seals today, I think.”

In the distance, he can hear Aoi admonishing Rin about putting off important things until the last minute; this saves him the trouble of giving his own lecture.

“And your teacher was unable to set a relic aside?”

“Well, Miss Sophia-Ri’s been busy with Clock Tower stuff.” Sakura fidgets, and the line crackles with her movement. “So…since you’re in England…”

Gilgamesh chuckles at Sakura’s unexpected hesitancy. “Are you suggesting I partake in petty thievery? How underhanded of you!”

Sakura takes the joke a little too seriously. “That’s not it at all! If you see something that could work as a relic, could you buy it, please?”

Gilgamesh leans lazily against the phone booth. It’s cramped in this contraption of glass and plastic, but the warmth is pleasant enough. His breath fogs up the glass, obscuring Kariya from view. “Hmm…a moment, Sakura.”

Pinching the phone between his shoulder and ear, he summons and searches the little treasures he and Kariya bought during the visit. The Tintagel Castle jigsaw puzzle is too modern…perhaps the snow-globe would work? It has the Sword in the Stone nestled inside it…

He holds up the snow-globe, waiting for that tingle of latent mythical power, and feels only the faintest of sparks. Unfortunately, the gifts won’t be of much use; they are too mundane. He deposits them back into his Treasury.

The payphone beeps, and Gilgamesh offers two more coins to its greedy maw. Truly, it is a device genius in its cold simplicity.

“Unfortunately, Sakura,” he says with a sigh, “there is nothing nearby of worth as a Catalyst. Contact the Summoning Department again, and I shall endeavor to find something before we leave.”

“Oh, thank you, Archer!”

The call ends, and Gilgamesh exits the phone-booth. Cool air assaults him, smelling faintly of rain—or perhaps snow. He pulls up the fur hood of his white coat just to be safe.

“Let me guess,” Kariya says dryly. “Rin can’t get a Catalyst.”

“Indeed.” Gilgamesh looks up at the darkening sky. “You said the hotel will be hosting a buffet tonight—when will that occur?”

Kariya glances at his wristwatch. “…In three more hours. Why?”

Gilgamesh grins. “Is it not obvious? I have a Catalyst to acquire.”

Before Kariya can tell him to wait, he steps into the shadow of an alleyway and disappears into spirit form. He knows precisely where he wishes to go—Hadrian’s Wall, Glastonbury Tor and Cornwall. Those are the places that resound with King Arthur’s legend. Surely, there will be something there that could suffice…!

Of course, he has his own reasons for aiding Rin—he remembers Saber’s reaction to the sudden Command Seal placed on her, her beautiful jade eyes wide with shock and pain. Her arms strained and shuddered as she began to attack Rider and Gilgamesh on the performance hall’s stairwell, chopping it into splinters beneath them. Even Excalibur seemed to struggle in Saber’s grasp, as if yearning to defy the order—but that was impossible. If we had not managed to bring our fight to the Grail’s location, all would have been lost.

Despite the destruction of the corrupted Grail being a resounding success, it still feels hollow due to the losses paid.

For reasons unknown to Gilgamesh, Saber’s final moments haunt him. Her smile as she swung Excalibur toward the Grail was not a smile of joy. It was a small, sad thing, barely a curve of the lips, and it was far too wretched for either a woman or a King, let alone one who is both.

It reminds Gilgamesh of Rin and Sakura’s locking themselves in their Father’s study—the looks of kind-hearted fools who willingly deprive themselves of joy, even as it falls into their lap, and replace it with the cold shackles of duty.    

This is the true reason why he’s deigned to help Rin: he feels the best method to cure a fool’s loneliness is to give them another lonely fool to acquaint themselves with. (The proof of its success is in his legend; he has every right to be confident.)

…But there is no time for such thoughts. Now, the Grail War has arrived on swifter winds, and Gilgamesh’s young Master is once again caught in its storm.

He swirls through England along the wild winds, taking in the mesh of old and new, iron and nature, and arrives at Glastonbury Tor first.

While he considers taking dust from Saber’s supposed resting place, in the end it is too profane to attempt…and there is no telltale “heat” emanating from the gravesite to begin with. Gilgamesh is pleased to see the lily he left there yesterday still rests beside the others, dusk’s purple light staining the white petals.

He travels on.

Cornwall, while a place of eerie serenity as the sun slowly sinks beyond its walls, still bears the subtle marks of the Einzbern’s excavation: Gilgamesh prowls through the chill halls, running his fingers along the gray stone and probing for signs of hidden doors.

If the legends are true, and Cornwall was King Arthur’s childhood home, he can certainly imagine a younger Saber running about underfoot down this hall, or tending to the horses in these now-barren stables.

She could have awoken in this bedchamber, with tussled hair gleaming in the morning sun filtering in through the window.

She may have eaten in this dining hall, tossing scraps to the dogs and tumbling about with them on the floor as musicians played. Could she laugh here, I wonder? Or was her heart yet locked away under the chains of duty?

While the castle does thrum with ancient power, it is marred by time.

He travels on.

He has a good feeling about Hadrian’s Wall. Many battles were fought there, and many were King Arthur’s. When he arrives, all is quiet. Stars are beginning to glow to life, casting the stones in dim blue light. Recent rains have melted away the snow, baring dead grass and soupy mud to the night sky.

The land stretches out for miles, and is not the place for fruitful crops, especially in this weather. Where normally there would be signs of life—foxes, perhaps, or scurrying mice—there is only the wind whispering over the shadowed fields.

Taking a deep, bracing breath of the chilly winter air, Gilgamesh begins his quest. He aims for only the places connected with King Arthur, to ensure he doesn’t find the mythic residue of someone else instead.

Hm. Yes, it appears three years is enough time to grow obsessed with someone known for a mere instant. He chuckles and hops over an upturned stone. Perhaps I shall be more lenient toward Kariya after all…or perhaps not.

His footsteps barely make a sound as he follows the winding structure, the grass gifting dew to his black trousers. Hundreds of years ago, soldiers would have patrolled this area, or stared in gnawing fear as the campfires of Roman legions burned on the opposite wall miles off. Naturally, that is but fairy-stories compared to what Gilgamesh’s armies dealt with, but even he can appreciate the legends carved into this land.

Suddenly, near the west end of the Wall where a gate once stood, he stops and listens. All is silent, but—a delicious chill shivers up his spine. That was Saber’s voice, just a moment ago.

The world is still, in that way of ancient battlefields the night before the slaughter. And that is why I heard her voice—the whisper of a long-dead hero only heard by another. Or perhaps I am beginning to hallucinate; a familiar predicament!

He quickly realizes why the voice is so faint: it’s beyond Hadrian’s Wall, where riders would march out to exchange terms or blows. He strolls out through the nonexistent gate, his shoes sinking slightly in muddier portions. He stops, closes his eyes and listens.

It’s only for an instant, but he hears it:

“…Perhaps, I should have expected this outcome. Ten years of peace was too many to hope for—despite that, I shall ensure ten more.”

Gilgamesh can practically see Saber, see the weary sadness in her eyes, the hard set of her delicate jaw, the beauty of her profile as she gazes out at yet another army with idealistic conviction. As he often has over the years, he wonders: When you returned from battle, O stout hearted King of Knights, were your cheeks flushed with joy? Or did you simply prepare for another fight to come?

He shakes his head to remove the wandering train of thought, and deigns to bend down and run his hands through the dead grass and packed snow. There is something here that called to me…but what?

Fortunately for him, it doesn’t take long for him to discover it. It’s something subtle, half-submerged in the dirt—it may not be ancient at all. And yet, as his fingers brush against silk drenched with mud and snow, that telltale heat glows against his palm.

As Gilgamesh lifts the fabric to inspect it, the moon rises from behind the leafless trees, illuminating the area in a milk-white sheen. In this light, the ribbon appears as blue as lapis lazuli. It is obvious why the Grail chose this delicate little scrap. It may not be as potent as Avalon, or a shard of the Round Table, but it is a striking detail in Saber’s attire; a detail that the Grail no doubt memorized last time.

His heart rises in his chest, and a sly smile tugs at his lips. Here, a Catalyst of a knight’s ribbon for a girl who loves both, found in the midst of an ancient battlefield by the King of Heroes…how fittingly theatrical for a Grail War.

“You have been heard, Saber,” he whispers, clutching the ribbon tightly.

Chapter Text

Sakura practically lunges at Uncle Kariya and Archer the moment they enter the mansion’s front door.

Though clearly pleasantly surprised to see Sakura greet him so early in the morning, Archer puts a finger to his lips.

Sakura winces and nods. “You’re home,” she whispers, throwing her hands in the air to emphasize her joy.

“You should be in bed,” Kariya admonishes her with a gentle smile. “It’s dawn. If Rin can’t stay up with you…”

Both Archer and Kariya look tired, with slight bags under their eyes and hair rumpled from travel (of the two, Archer looks the most frazzled). They had to hurry to get back to Fuyuki before the Holy Grail War begins.

She sighs and stares down at her fuzzy red slippers. “I know, I’m sorry.” She hugs Kariya anyway, careful to avoid getting in the way of his rolling backpack. “Did your job go well, Uncle Kariya?”

“Yeah—but I’m definitely going to talk to that magazine about giving me an extra assignment on top of the one they gave me. Sure, it gave Archer time to find a Catalyst, but I don’t need more stress!”

“Why’d that happen?” Normally, Kariya’s employers are kinder than that.

Kariya makes a ridiculous expression, twirling an imaginary mustache. “‘Ooh, so you’re in England already for a different assignment, Mr. May-too? Excellent, a tour of England’s cathedrals needs coverage right away!’”

Archer leans down to whisper to Sakura “Despite his complaints, they paid him a handsome fee to cover expenses. We enjoyed ourselves regardless.”

Kariya creeps carefully through the entrance hall, lifting his backpack at an awkward angle to avoid it hitting the walls. “Sakura, he kept trying to hook me up with nuns, for some reason. Nuns!”

Archer blinks in confusion. “You said they were in service to their loving god. Thus, they must…show that love to any who visit their temple, or rather abbey.”

Sakura shakes her head, trying not to laugh and wake up everyone else. “Archer, Father Risei says nuns are supposed to live without loving anyone but God. They’re celibate!”

“Exactly!” Kariya stage-whispers from across the hall. “So when they offered us a feast, that was all it was, okay?”

Archer nods, as if understanding. Then his expression turns downcast, his eyes dim. Once he notices Sakura looking, though, he shakes his head and says to pay him no mind.

“…Okay,” she says with a yawn so huge in strains her jaw.

“Impressive,” Archer says, before yawning too.

Sakura’s ready to fall asleep where she stands, but before she shuffles off to bed, she asks “Archer, is the relic in your Treasury?”

While she knows Archer found a Catalyst for Rin, Sakura has no idea what it is or what it looks like. Archer’s been very secretive about it—Kariya didn’t get anything out of him during their trip back.

Archer grins. “I shall show you this afternoon, after we have rested.”

“Promise?”

“You have the King’s oath.”

Sakura’s heart pounds with excitement, but she forces herself to stay calm. I do need to sleep, even if I don’t feel like it…

She says goodnight to Archer and Kariya before shuffling back to her room, her mind whirling with guesses as to what the mysterious Catalyst might be.

---

Sakura rolls over onto her belly and winces. Sunlight bursts in through the white gauzy curtains, drenching her closed eyes in blood red. She shields her eyes and yawns, still feeling a little sleepy. But my body wants to wake up, so I’ve got no choice! Her muscles strain pleasantly as she stretches. I think I had another nightmare about that scary guy in black…it’s good that I don’t remember it.

She stumbles out of her four-poster bed and opens the curtains with a sharp tug. Every time she looks at this room (her room, in her home), she always remembers how she thought she’d never see it again. It still feels like a dream, even now.

She’s pleased to see her army of stuffed animals has guarded her closet and bedroom doors competently. Grumbles the Rhino managed to stay upright this time, with the help of a giant alpaca Archer bought Sakura for her birthday. (She hasn’t thought of a name yet, but she’ll think of one eventually.)

“Good work, troops,” Sakura says, patting each toy on the head one by one.

She could use Familiars for this job, but her stuffed animals haven’t let her down yet. And a lot of them are Rin’s—they need something to do, now that she’s thrown them away!

The beady black eyes before her look very sad, all of a sudden. She tries not to think of why.

After putting them back on their shelves or in her oaken toy box, she finds that Aoi laid out her clothes at the edge of the bed. It’s a pink dress with frills on the bottom and long, warm socks. She scoops them up and shuffles to the bathroom—Rin’s door is open, but the bathroom’s open too. This must be a lucky day then—I always have to wait for her to finish!

Once washed and dressed, she puts on the final touch--the ring that Aoi gave her. It sparkles in the light as brightly as ever.

As expected, everyone sleeps in—the summoning ritual starts past midnight, after all. Breakfast becomes brunch, and Sakura’s mind is too busy jittering with excitement to notice what they’re eating. Chilly winter sunlight illuminates the yellow curtains, the antique window catching the light in its rippled pane.

Rin is patient enough to wait until the dishes are cleared away before looking at Archer expectantly. Sakura looks across the table at Archer, who leans back in his chair with the look of someone savoring his audience’s excitement.

It’s Aoi who finally breaks the tension, resting her back against the kitchen counter and leveling Archer with her quietly intense stare.

“Mr. Archer, please, we’ve waited long enough,” she says firmly. “And we don’t have that much time, I’m afraid.”

Archer chuckles and snaps his fingers. A rippling portal opens up beside him, dropping a small blue case into his hand. It looks like something you would carry glasses in, but slightly thinner. He curls his fingers around the lid; it pops free and he pushes it across the table to Rin.

Rin snatches up the case with a grin—then pauses with furrowed brows. She pouts. “It’s dirty!”

“As ancient relics often are.” Archer rests his elbows on the table, his eyes glinting. “Inspect it carefully.”

Sakura leans over to Rin to get a better look. As Rin says, the Catalyst is specked with dirt (maybe blood, too, but it’s hard to tell), but Sakura’s able to see what’s underneath: a deep-blue ribbon, laid out like a shed snakeskin.

Wait… Her heart begins to lift in her chest. …This ribbon looks like…!

Kariya’s come to the same conclusion. He slowly turns to look at Archer with delighted disbelief. “Oh my God, Archer—!”

Normally Archer’s increasingly smug expression would be annoying, if not for the circumstances. “It was pure happenstance that I found it at all. It may not be antique, precisely, but the Grail seems to find it a potent vessel.”

“I don’t understand,” Rin says, poking at the ribbon with a puzzled expression.

“Rin,” Sakura breathes, barely able to control her excitement. Her hands are on Rin’s shoulders before she can restrain herself. “Rin, this is for Saber!”

There’s a pause before it sinks in.

Then the kitchen explodes with noise: Rin and Sakura screaming in delight, hugging each other and bouncing up and down; Aoi switching between admonishing them and congratulating Rin by turns; Kariya and Archer laughing uproariously, with Archer looking ready to slide out of his chair onto the floor.

The excitement slowly winds down. Rin remembers she’s the Tohsaka heir, clears her throat in embarrassment and releases Sakura from her hug.

“…Thank you, Archer,” she says, bowing politely; her twintails nearly touch the floor as she does so. “I’m in your debt.” When she raises her head, she glances at Saber’s ribbon worriedly. “If this’ll summon Saber, that is.”

Archer sits up properly in his chair, his expression familiarly neutral. “I have faith that it will—but it could potentially summon another of her retinue instead. In any event, you will receive a Saber-class Servant—ideally, one worthy to guard my flank in tomorrow’s War.”

Aoi still looks a little confused, but she smiles at Rin and Sakura with only a hint of worry. “As long as you’re both safe,” she says.

Rin glances at the clock. “Ugh, I can’t believe we have to wait until midnight. It’s like the world’s taunting us!” That flash of her usual self is quickly hidden under stoic elder-sister perfection. “Oh, well. I can open Father’s will instead, like Kirei suggested.”

Rin turns on her heel and heads for the basement with ladylike precision. Beneath Rin’s white shirt, Sakura can see the side of the Tohsaka Magic Crest branded into her arm.

From behind, she looks like a grownup.

Sakura feels the goodwill in the room warp, but she manages to smile at Rin’s retreating back. This is the price she paid for her freedom; compared to what Zouken “offered” her, this is nothing.

She turns back to Archer, who is watching her with a disquieting stillness. It’s been awhile since she’s been faced with that puzzle-solving stare, and she isn’t sure what to do at first.

“It’s okay, Archer,” she says. “Father wouldn’t put anything dangerous in his will. And besides, Rin’s the Tohsaka heir. She can handle anything!”

“…I see.” There’s a long, slow blink. “And you are content with that?”

“Of course—I get to have more free time!” It’s not quite a lie, but…

“Speaking of which,” Aoi says with a smile, having noticed nothing, “why don’t we celebrate by ordering takeout tonight?”

Kariya chuckles. “Sure—Sakura’s favorite place is open, right?”

Sakura’s cheeks heat up. She suddenly remembers that Kariya and Archer have been gone for quite awhile, and missed what happened a week ago. While she doesn’t mind their teasing, she’s glad they weren’t around when the “thing” happened, and is determined to keep them in the dark.

“Ah, you don’t have to—I mean, it’s not my favorite…”

Aoi blinks. “Really? But you love that little family-owned restaurant. Their udon is better than the others nearby…”

Archer grins like a mischievous boy. “Indeed, but you forgot the most precious ingredient…isn’t that right, Sakura?”

“That pun’s the worst, Archer!” She’ll say anything to keep him from knowing her secret.

Unfortunately, her mother remembers it all too well. “Oh, yes, the owners’ son gave Sakura a note last week. It was very sweet!”

Sakura’s toes curl in her shoes, and she hides her face in her hands. “Mother, why?”

As she expected, Archer makes a delighted sound. “Truly, this is a day for celebration. And what were the letter’s contents?”

“The boy wants to be her friend,” Aoi says fondly. “I’m so happy for you, Sakura!”

Sakura’s embarrassment flickers for a moment before returning in full force. “It—it’s not that big a deal, right?”

“Did he tell you his name, Sakura?” Kariya asks, looking genuinely curious.

“He forgot to write it!” She giggles. “But…he gave it to Mother when she came to pick up our order.”

Archer strikes a dramatic pose and intones as if narrating a drama: “And thus, the heroine continues to pine after the nameless cook who ensnared her stomach.”

She can’t take the embarrassment crawling over her skin any longer.

“Versteck mich, Schatten,” she mutters, and shadows curl about her like pitch-black velvet, enveloping her from view.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t keep her from hearing the adults’ soft laughter.

“I’m sorry, Sakura,” Aoi says, genuine but still amused. “We’ll let you be.”

“…Okay.” She folds her arms and sulks, becoming comforted by the cool, gentle sensation against her skin.

The adults walk toward the living room, chatting amongst themselves.

“Think we went too far, Aoi?” Kariya asks. His voice is slightly muffled.

“I think so. I thought she wouldn’t mind!”

Sakura isn’t as mad as she wants to be. This isn’t entirely about the letter, and she knows it. She sits on a soft cushion of darkness and hugs her knees. Despite herself, she keeps thinking of Rin’s cool words and retreating back. This is how it’s supposed to be. Rin is the better choice for heir, anyway—and I can play with Archer and Uncle Kariya whenever I want! So why…?

The varnished wood floor creaks and shifts beneath her, and the footsteps stop before her cocoon.

“It was merely a joke, Sakura,” Archer says, a smile enriching his voice. “It appears I took it further than you wished.”

He pats the top of the shadow-lump in apology; it ripples out and around her like water.

When she was younger, she would’ve sulked in here even after Archer apologized—but she’s a little older now, and knows that he’s not actually trying to make her this embarrassed. She still sulks for a few moments more, as is her right, before poking her head out of the shadows to peer up at Archer.

“You mean it?” she asks.

“The King of Heroes’ words are always genuine,” he replies.

He’s picked up one of the chairs and is bringing it toward her. Setting it down beside her with a clunk, he takes his seat, legs crossed at the knee.

“Now,” he says, his eyes seeming to peer right through her. “I wish to speak of your sister.”

She’s tempted to submerge her head back in the shadows, but they’ve been through this before. He’ll just wait patiently until I get bored and then ask again. So—it’s distraction time!

“…The new ribbons Mother gave her look really pretty, huh?”

Archer barks out a laugh. “That is the furthest you’ve reached to avoid an unwanted conversation yet!” His gaze is still serious, however. “Your sister creates unrest in you—yes, unintentionally, don’t look so aggrieved—yet it still festers within your heart. Why?”

She has to look away from him. “…Well…um…I don’t know.” The words won’t come, for some reason. “It’s not about Rin, but it is.”    

“Ah, I see. Do you feel jealous?”

That she can answer. “No, I wouldn’t want all that work!”

He chuckles dryly. “Indeed. And yet, when your sister left us earlier, your smile was…unbecoming.” There’s a strange tinge to his voice, as if he sees something funny about this.

“I wasn’t smiling for you,” Sakura says primly, giving Archer her most Aoi-esque stare. “I was smiling for Rin. Because she’s the one with all the responsibilities, and I want her to know I care about her!”

This is the truth, as close to Sakura’s heart as she can reach. And yet, despite that, she feels a little queasy as the words hang in the air.

Archer stares thoughtfully into the distance, as if digesting her words. He doesn’t say anything in response—perhaps there is nothing to say.

The silence grows companionable rather than awkward over time. Eventually, Sakura sheds her cocoon and stands beside Archer, her hands tucked into her jumper pockets.

“Thanks for helping us, Archer,” Sakura says quietly, her thoughts turning impatiently toward midnight.

“Your gratefulness is ever charming.”

Sakura glances at the clock—there’s still too much time left.

“I just realized something,” she says, sighing in disappointment. “I don’t think Mother can read to us tonight, since we’ll be up past bedtime.”

“Is she still reading Russian tales?” Archer’s trying to sound casual, but they both know he’s been interested in it.

“That’s right. Oh, since you and Uncle Kariya were gone, you missed ‘The Death of Koschei the Deathless’!”

Archer laughs. “Well, the finale of that tale is clear.”

Sakura grins. “Are you sure?”

“You wish to prove me wrong? Amusing.”

Sakura doesn’t waste time; after asking Aoi where the book is, she finds the chapter and hands it over to Archer.

“Please, can you read it aloud, Archer?” She can’t wait to see his reaction—he’s enjoyed the tales with Koschei the best.

“Very well,” he says, and begins reading.

With each raised brow and slight pause, Sakura gains the reactions she’d hoped for.

---

It feels as if it took forever and only an instant, but one way or another midnight arrives in eerie silence. The rest of Fuyuki is sleeping like always, unaware of the heroes about to arrive in their city, nor the battles to come.

Sakura, Kariya and Archer are in the study as Rin’s audience (Aoi went to bed early, understandably). As thanks, or maybe she already planned to, Rin shows them what Tokiomi gave her.

“There’s a broken relic in there.” Rin flaps a hand toward a battered black box. “And there’s some stuff about business and Fuyuki’s land—Mother can look at that. But the prize is—this!”

She raises her fist in triumph and loosens her grip slightly. A silver chain unspools from her palm, and a beautiful ruby pendant sways heavily in the air, glowing like a burning coal in the flickering candlelight. The ruby is cut like a heart, or an arrowhead. Sakura can feel the magical energy pulsing through it, even from several paces away. It’s a familiar warmth, the kind that leaves an electric tang on the tongue—not unlike her Command Seals from long ago.

“Amazing, Rin; that’ll make a great trump card…!” This is definitely a gift Father would give. Ruby gives courage and peace.

Rin nods in satisfaction, stroking the pendant with a finger. “This is Father’s memento…it’s probably been in the family for generations.”

If Sakura didn’t know better, she’d think Rin is about to cry with joy. But only the calm satisfaction of a Tohsaka shows on her face, as it should.

Archer eyes the pendant with a greedy smile. “Truly, that is a treasure to cherish. Use it well.”

Rin nods, all business once again. “Here, Sakura,” she says, draping the chain around her neck. “Hold onto this for me until the ritual’s done, okay?”

Sakura’s lips curl upwards in a surprised smile. It feels as if the pendant’s warmth is seeping into her conflicted heart.

Having this many people in Tokiomi’s study makes Sakura realize just how small this place actually is. The realization only grows once Archer pushes Tokiomi’s ornate desk out of the way, revealing the Summoning Circle. It takes up almost the whole floor, the markings just as vividly black as if Tokiomi inked them in a moment ago.

“Here’s the Catalyst,” Kariya says. He places it in the center of the Circle with exaggerated care before picking his way back to where Archer and Sakura stand.

“Thanks, Uncle Kariya,” Rin says, a smile in her voice.

Rin stands still for a moment, and even from behind Sakura can tell she’s memorizing the spell again. Or perhaps not: she turns to look at Sakura, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Ready?”

Everyone nods; the whole mansion seems to be holding its breath. When Rin begins the ritual, the tension only ratchets higher. As to be expected from the Tohsaka heir, Rin is all poise and clear enunciation, her words ringing loud and clear as she opens the door to this world.

“Fill. Fill. Fill. Fill. Repeat five times—”

—Wait! Sakura wants to say, stretching out her arm.

But it’s too late: Rin’s already moving forward, blind to what just happened. Maybe it’s fine…the Circle’s glowing white, just like it should be. I’m probably overreacting…

Rin’s Command Seals shine like jewels on the back of her outstretched hand, matching the white light in intensity.

“Heed my words. My will creates your body, and your sword creates my destiny. If you heed the Grail’s call and obey my will and reason, then answer me…”

Rin stands in the light without backing down, enveloped in it like she was born to be here. It’s hard to see Archer and Kariya, but judging by how still they are, they’re entranced by Rin too.

The candles snuff out all at once. Books tremble and thud to the floor.

“I hereby swear, that I shall be all the good in the world. That I shall defeat all evil in this world!” Rin’s conviction is as strong as a knight’s—hopefully that will be enough.

Sakura squints. In the snow-white haze, if she isn’t mistaken, she can see something taking shape. Her heart leaps to her throat; she claps a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting in joy.

As if she can’t help herself, Rin strikes a dramatic pose, one hand on her hip as she extends a hand of welcome. It’s somewhere between funny and cool—another flash of her true self.

“Come forth from the circle of binding, Guardian of the Scales!”

A brilliant flash—

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut just in time. She cracks open her eyes, blinking back her own veins floating and flickering in her vision. As she reorients herself, a familiar fog spreads through the room, shrouding everyone in bluish-white. She reaches out a fumbling hand toward Rin, and finds Kariya instead.

“Can you see anything, Sakura?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nope. Archer, what about you?”

Archer is uncharacteristically quiet. Sakura can still tell he’s nearby, though.

A new voice cuts through the tension, sounding slightly hoarse: “I ask you: are you worthy…to be my Master?”

“I’ll do my best,” Rin says, her voice full of pride.

The fog slowly recedes…and Sakura realizes something is wrong.

It’s Saber, King of Knights, in the Circle’s center—that much is certain. The brilliant silvery glow of her armor, her brilliant eyes like jade, the valiance in her voice are dead giveaways.

But a Servant shouldn’t look like this.

Sakura can’t stop staring at the blood crusted on Saber’s battle-gown and face, the way she uses her sword as support. Sakura can see that whatever wounds she has under her armor are slowly knitting together, but that still doesn’t change the fact that Saber looks and smells like she’s just crawled through an ocean of blood.

“Rin,” Kariya murmurs, his voice strained. “I think something went wrong with the summoning…”

It’s Archer who dashes over to Saber when she threatens to fall, cradling her to him with an unreadable expression. He doesn’t say anything, he just teleports upstairs. Sakura can hear him setting Saber down on the couch, the floorboards shifting slightly to accommodate their weight.

Kariya rushes up after them, concern plain on his face. His pounding footsteps might wake Aoi, but that could be a good thing. I’m sure Mother can help somehow.

Sakura sighs and waits for Rin’s inevitable shriek of frustration, as she falls to her knees and drags trembling fingers through her hair. Or maybe Rin will cry but insist that she isn’t through a watery, sniffling voice.

She gets neither. Instead, Rin stands in silence, her gaze fixed on the drops and puddles of blood Saber left behind. When Sakura steps forward to comfort Rin, Rin wipes her eyes on her sleeve and shuffles toward the door.

“It’s okay, Sakura,” she says, something resembling a smile on her face. “At least Saber’s here now, right?”

Sakura doesn’t know what to say or do. Her heart feels ready to sink down to her stomach; her body feels both too heavy and too light. Despite this, she manages to reach out and give Rin’s hand a light, comforting squeeze.

Rin looks surprised at first. Then her smile turns more genuine, and lights up the dim room. “…Thanks, Sakura. Come on, let’s go see how Saber’s doing!”

Rin pulls Sakura along behind her, her grip firm and warm, and Sakura finds it strengthening her resolve.

---

Saber is awake when Rin and Sakura arrive upstairs. It’s strange to see a Servant who isn’t Archer in the living room, sprawled on the couch. Saber’s blue and silver colors don’t match the room at all, and her very presence gives the living room unexpected seriousness.

Sakura can’t take her eyes off Saber’s fluttering eyelashes. Her cheeks are red—maybe she’s embarrassed? That’s a weird look for someone so cool.

“You’ve got a fever,” Kariya says, pulling his hand away from Saber’s forehead. “But I don’t see any broken bones. Just…a lot of blood.”

“Good,” Saber murmurs. “Then my healing abilities are working. The blood should vanish on its own.”

Archer stirs beside the couch. “Is it yours?”

Saber’s chuckle is barely a huff of breath. “It’s a mixture of mine and others’.” Her expression turns solemn. “Please pardon the stench.”

“Want some water?” Rin asks, looking at her Servant with big, worried eyes.

Saber slowly turns her head to look at Rin. She looks ready to refuse, but after an awkward pause she nods. “I thank you, Master.”

Sakura smiles as Archer opens a portal and retrieves a silver pitcher and cup.

Judging by Saber’s widening eyes, she didn’t recognize Archer until now. But she seems to understand why he’s here.

“I am pleased to find you well, Archer. And Lady Sakura also.”

Archer tilts his head with a sneaky expression. “You expected anything less?”

The soothing sound of pouring water fills the room.

“Thank you,” Saber says as she takes the cup. She downs it in a few long sips, and Archer refills it.

Sakura blinks in surprise—just as Saber said, the blood is slowly disappearing from her body and armor like it was never there.

Saber notices, and holds the cup with careful fingers. “We Heroic Spirits are quite durable, as you’ll soon see.” She slowly sits up, looking only a little disoriented. “And I refuse to begin the Holy Grail War as an invalid.”

“As admirable as your will is,” Archer says, arms folded, “you must rest, Saber. I for one refuse to begin the Holy Grail War by losing a valuable warrior.”

Saber narrows her eyes at him. “You would chastise me, Archer?”

He bares his teeth in a grin. “In your pathetic state? Gladly, if it would convince you to lounge for awhile as is your kingly right.”

“As always, you’re mistaken, Archer: a King must protect their people, and since we are at War—”

“—We have at least a day or two before anything of significance occurs. Why fret over nothing?”

Kariya yawns and shuffles off to bed. “G’night, you two…try not to kill each other.”

Rin and Sakura look at each other, then at their bickering Servants. Sakura suspects she’s not the only one with déjà vu. She sighs. Well, at least they don’t seem serious about it…

“Let’s go to bed too,” Rin says, her body beginning to sway.

Sakura can barely even nod—weariness crept up on her like the tide. The argument stops in time for Archer to pick her up and bring her to her room. Sakura tumbles into sleep with her head pillowed on his chest.

But her dreams are uncomfortable, full of the man in black striding down the street to the Tohsaka mansion.

Chapter Text

Before Gilgamesh puts Sakura to bed, he carefully removes the red pendant from around her neck—it wouldn’t do to have her strangle to death under his watch.

He exits the room with silent tread, admiring the pendant as it glows in the dim light of the hall. There’s a potent amount of mana in this gem, just as Sakura said. And I know precisely who to give this to for safekeeping…tempting though it is to keep it for myself. He considers Kariya, but really it’s Aoi Tohsaka who will be running about Fuyuki amidst a war. This will be one more magic necklace for her collection…

As luck would have it, Aoi’s shuffling back from the bathroom just as he turns the corner. Her long white nightgown whispers across the floor, but her pink slippers barely make a sound. Her long hair is rumpled from sleep, and her eyes are bleary, but she still manages to wake herself when she spies him.

“Here,” Gilgamesh whispers, handing her the pendant. “This is your eldest child’s inheritance.”

The long silver chain spools out past Aoi’s palm, threatening to fall until she cups her hands. She nods, her eyes showing she understands the need to keep it safe.

As she places the pendant in her gown’s breast pocket, Gilgamesh notices an old scar on her hand, hidden beneath her wrist. It looks similar to injuries sustained from a spell misfiring.

He frowns. “When did you receive that scar on your wrist?”

Aoi glances at it, her expression turning very still. When she looks at him, her smile is as bright as fool’s gold.

“I’m not sure—but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Hmm—I see. Good.”

Aoi looks ready to return to her room, but she pauses. “Archer…do you think the Grail is back to normal—that it’s uncorrupted again?”

“It appears so. Why do you ask?”

Even in this dim light, he can see the faint glow in Aoi’s eyes as she traces the pendant with a delicate finger. He knows that look: a long-buried desire for power, slowly rising to the surface.

But that light’s extinguished in moments.

“Oh—I’m not sure. Good night, Archer.”

“…Good night,” he says to her retreating back.

When Aoi opens the door of her bedroom, he can’t help but notice how she has to pause before entering—as if afraid to disturb a husband who is no longer there.

---

The next day, Gilgamesh wakes up with a strange prickling sensation in his mind. He quickly realizes who the mysterious presence is. Ah, yes, Saber.

He sits up in the large bed he shares with Kariya, the soft linen blankets pooling down on his bare lap. He listens to Kariya’s soft breathing and watches his curled, shirtless chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

He doesn’t expect Kariya to roll over, his eyes fluttering open. “Whuzzamatter, Archer?”

Gilgamesh chuckles. “Nothing of importance. I merely felt Saber’s presence and had to remind myself she was here.”

Kariya grunts—it appears something’s on his mind. “Hey, Archer. Do you…find Saber beautiful?”

Gilgamesh raises an eyebrow. “I am partial to women with her charms, yes.” He can’t resist chucking Kariya under the chin, snickering as Kariya jolts at the ticklish sensation. “Why, is that envy I see in your eyes? I must say I’m shocked!”

“I’m not jealous, just—just curious,” Kariya says, avoiding Gilgamesh’s gaze.

“Oh?”

“Oh, come on, it’s early in the morning, I don’t have the brain-power to lie right now.”

With another contrite grunt, Kariya rolls onto his belly, his head turned away from Gilgamesh.

That settles it: he must tease this foolish mongrel more, or else the morning will be wasted.

Gilgamesh croons, his sympathetic tone somewhere between mockery and sincerity. “Mongrel…”

Kariya tenses—he knows the connotations of that tone by now. His ears are already as red as ripe cherries. A soft hum passes his lips, and Gilgamesh takes that as a sign to continue.

Gilgamesh glides his knuckles down Kariya’s smooth back in that way he can’t resist. He’s rewarded with Kariya’s spine arching up to meet him like a cat.

“Mongrel, does the possibility of Saber charming me distress you?” He rubs his thumb against the small of Kariya’s back, the circles growing smaller and smaller. “Why would that matter, when you offer your mana to me so willingly?”

Judging by the shivers coursing down Kariya’s exposed body, he’s really regretting lying on his belly now. Gilgamesh adjusts his position, so that he can drink in the fruit of his efforts.

“You see, mongrel,” he whispers, his breath making gooseflesh rise on Kariya’s skin, “I believe you underestimate the pleasure your body brings me.”

Kariya snorts. “I can feel that just fine, trust me.”

“And yet, you’re concerned about Saber.”

“You’re overthinking this; I don’t mind if you find her attractive!”

“Yet surely you have a limit to set?”

“Well, yeah.” Kariya turns his head to look at Gilgamesh, his expression serious. “If she says no—”

“—I will comply.” He chuckles, letting it vibrate against Kariya’s back. “I shall tell you once more: a king lives for pleasure. And there is nothing more rewarding than an offer accepted.”

Gilgamesh wets his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of Kariya’s ear. He can feel Kariya’s pulse ticking against his lips, a sweet rhythm.

Kariya groans. “Hurry it up already, will you?”

Gilgamesh ponders this option for a moment, reveling in the tingling warmth of Kariya’s body against his hands. It would be an excellent time for Mana Transfer…but then again, why embrace the expected?

He grins and nuzzles Kariya’s neck instead. Kariya’s desperate breathing vibrates against Gilgamesh’s chest—it’s almost nostalgic.

“Well,” Gilgamesh murmurs, “if there was ever an opportunity for a lesson in patience…”

---

Now, Gilgamesh is properly awake. He decides to let Kariya sleep awhile longer—entertainment such as that deserves a reward, does it not?

He soundlessly rises from the bed, cool air embracing his bare skin. The red curtains block the late morning sun—not that he minds; he knows this guest room well by now. He easily sidesteps the cherry-wood nightstand by the bed, Kariya’s discarded shoes, and the armoire lurking by the door. On a whim, he opts to leave the room through spirit form and turn corporeal in the kitchen.

Aoi barely reacts at his arrival—she’s grown accustomed to him, for good or ill. The smile she offers is far more genuine than the one last night.

“Here you are,” she says, handing him a cup of tea and the Fuyuki newspaper. “Breakfast is almost ready!”

“Breakfast?” Saber murmurs from the doorway, looking remarkably awake and presentable for a King.

“Good morning, Saber,” Gilgamesh says, giving her a lazy salute with his tea.

She nods in wary acknowledgement. “…Good morning, Archer.” She then turns her attention to Aoi, having not met her previously.

While introductions are made, Gilgamesh opens the paper and learns that a certain Master wasted no time last night. Judging by the dead “aristocrat” found poisoned at the rebuilt Hyatt, the deadly mongrel in black has returned to Fuyuki. And since I cannot sense Caster…that is a murdered Master on the front page. The “finest hotel establishment in Fuyuki” will garner quite an ill reputation after this!

Shortly thereafter, while explaining the news over breakfast, he learns an unexpected trait of Saber’s: she eats like a horse. Whatever Aoi puts down in front of her, from sweet, blue grapes to bowl after bowl of steaming rice, Saber devours with impunity. It’s quite endearing, in a base sort of way.

“Has your fever truly broken?” he asks, after Saber pauses to sip her tea.

She nods, seeming surprised that he noticed or cared.

“Excellent. Your swordsmanship will be quite useful tonight—assuming that the death of that Master was not a fluke.”

Saber stares down at her tea, as if spying a vision in its nut-brown depths. “If it was truly Kiritsugu Emiya who killed them, it was no fluke. He’s the type who desires efficiency above all else.”

“How bland—but I expect nothing less from a mongrel.”

Gilgamesh turns his attention toward more pleasant things—such as another helping of chicken cutlets. They’re savory, lightly salted, and the meat itself is soft enough to melt in his mouth.

It’s a little strange, not having Rin, Kariya and Sakura at the table, but then there’s no need to disturb their slumber. Perhaps a curfew is in order…it wouldn’t do to destroy children’s sleep-patterns over a Grail War.

“This is delicious,” Saber exclaims after her fifth helping of rice.

There’s a sizeable stack of empty bowls that Aoi’s finished cleaning. The tower is beginning to teeter dangerously, but Aoi quickly puts the bowls away before a crash can occur.

“I’m glad you like my cooking,” she says, looking very pleased indeed. “I’m going to go wake up the girls—then I need to visit the Church.”

“That is fine,” Saber says with a gallant smile. “I don’t wish to keep you from your duties.”

Aoi’s bashful smile is an unexpected sight. She bustles out of the room with newfound zeal. What a pity Kariya is abed! I shall tell him later—no doubt his reaction will be amusing.

Saber sits back and pats her belly, her eyes half-lidded in contentment. No longer wearing her armor, her gown has a velvety sheen in the sunlight.

Gilgamesh drinks in the sight, having never seen such a delightful expression on Saber’s face before. Merely looking at her makes warmth glow to life in his chest—he finally has a glimpse of what brings Saber joy.

Unfortunately, Saber is quick to refocus, turning to look at him with a stern countenance. “It pains me to say this, but if Kiritsugu Emiya has returned to Fuyuki, we cannot let Sakura and Rin out into the battlefield. He won’t hesitate to kill them if need be.”

Gilgamesh pours another spoonful of sugar into his tea, stirring it thoughtfully. “This mongrel…if you know of him, you doubtless know his methods. How shall we destroy him, Saber?”

Her fingers dig into the fabric of her battle-gown. “To destroy him…yes, that would be worthwhile. And yet, I find it difficult to explain how I would. He uses underhanded, vile tactics, as you saw in the last Grail War. But—this may be an imitator; Archer, you said the Overseer’s son was hunting Kiritsugu, correct?”

“With as much enthusiasm as a stone rolling downhill.” He sips his tea. “I’m rather amazed that the two mongrels have evaded each other so easily. But perhaps that’s to be expected of a Mage-Killer and an Executor.”

“Regardless, we will need to be on the watch for encroaching Masters or Servants. With any luck, we will have far less…underhanded Masters to contend with.”

Gilgamesh chuckles. “I suspect there will be equal amounts of fair and foul play—these are Mages we’re dealing with, after all.”

Saber glances upwards; the young Masters are beginning to stir. “Sakura and Rin won’t be pleased at the idea of hiding here and laying low…but perhaps they will understand.”

“They will have their opportunities. I look forward to boasting of Sakura’s virtues once more.” He looks at Saber slyly. “Of course, you may be the subject of my praise as well. Let your heart quiver with eagerness!”

Saber blinks at him. “You have an…eccentric idea of anatomy, Archer.”

His grin widens—he didn’t expect flirtation so soon. “Oh?”

He leans back and drapes an arm behind the chair, letting her get a good view of his bronzed chest peeking out of the deep neck of his white shirt. His body turned toward her, he crosses his legs, the snakeskin pants whispering as he moves. (It’s one of his favorite attires for many reasons: there’s enough skin to make mongrels curious, but enough fabric to keep his body warm. And those with intense sense of touch seem to enjoy the unique feel of snakeskin.)

As he hoped, Saber takes notice. It makes him think of a maiden from the countryside, looking upon a city’s marketplace for the first time, holding a list of wares to purchase.

“I assure you, Saber, I’m well-acquainted with matters of the heart and body. Do you wish to learn…?”

“Hmm…no, but thank you for offering.” After rejecting him with an innocent expression, Saber stands and stretches. Once she looks satisfied with her limberness, she strolls away with the grace befitting a knight.

Gilgamesh sits there for a while, pondering what just happened. It isn’t that the rejection is impossible, it’s merely that he isn’t sure she understood. It’s utterly baffling. Did she see my words as an offer of apprenticeship, or as a carnal invitation? Is she aware of the implications, or are they as clear as mud to her?

As the rest of the household shuffles sleepily into the kitchen for brunch, Gilgamesh finds himself preoccupied with Saber’s eccentricity. It may be futile to muddle over such things, but normally when someone rejects him, it’s…direct. This, on the other hand, is a confusing hodgepodge of misunderstanding and improper communication: something deadly in any situation.

In other words, this must be resolved before we end up killing each other instead of our foes.

---

After Aoi and Kariya set out to run errands, Gilgamesh sets out in search of Saber.

It doesn’t take long: he finds her in front of a neatly-folded pile of clothes in the living room, holding them up for inspection with cautious hands. Rin and Sakura are crowded around the couch, looking enthralled by their new dress-up partner.

“Ooh, Saber, that one looks pretty!” Sakura points at the flowing, cream-yellow dress Saber’s currently holding.

“You believe so?” Saber’s brows furrow. “It seems…delicate. Is it a nightgown?”

Sakura nods. “It goes with your hair, you see?”

“Oh, so it does. Thank you.”

Rin picks up a pair of jeans, the legs rolled up to the ankles. “Look, these’ll help you move around!”

“Oh, thank you, Master,” Saber says, bestowing a warm smile upon her. “I have never chosen clothing for myself, so I shall rely on everyone for that.”

Gilgamesh takes the opportunity to clear his throat and announce his presence. Three pairs of eyes look at him curiously.

“I would add that white sweater with the ribbon tied to the collar to the ensemble,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “It appears very warm and modest.”

Saber picks up the sweater and runs her fingers over the fabric. “…Ah, it’s soft…” She compares it to the coarser jeans and seems to find them suitable, folding them both beside her.

Saber’s gaze scrolls toward the pile of clothing again; she fishes through it and pulls something out. It’s a sapphire-blue beret, and she immediately plops it onto her head with a smile.

“I remember someone wearing a hat similar to this,” she says. “It may not be a crown, but it sits far more comfortably!”

“Oh, is this for more than amusement?”

Sakura nods. “That’s right, Archer, you didn’t know—Saber can’t turn into spirit form like you!”

Rin looks down at the floor and pouts. “Are you sure it isn’t because of me, Saber?”

“I’m certain of it—this has always been an issue for me. …Oh, this skirt looks comfortable too. It will match the beret very nicely.”

Gilgamesh frowns; this “issue” reminds him of the incident at Hadrian’s Wall. That whole scenario was peculiar…I shall ask her about it.

“Saber…is there, perhaps, something unique to your summoning?”

Saber’s countenance turns cagey—but not enough to be noticed by Rin or Sakura.

“I don’t believe so,” she says, and nothing in her posture suggests this to be a lie. “I was unable to turn incorporeal during the last War as well. Perhaps it’s a mistake on the part of the Grail.”

“Perhaps.” That still appears suspicious—but it’s none of my concern.

“In any event,” Saber says, scooping up the clothes, “I will easily keep pace with you, Archer.”

He thinks of her dashing across the ocean to strike down Caster’s eldritch horror and smiles. “Oh, I have no doubt of that. Now, the mansion’s parameters need checking. Care to join me, Saber?”

The mansion is carefully guarded by a Bounded Field to avoid the gaze of rubbernecking neighbors, but it’s always good to ensure it remains stable. After all, the Matou family is only mostly dead, and they are the sort who desire revenge.

“Do you have anything you need to ask, Rin?” Saber asks, looking toward her Master.

“Nope, I’m all set! Sakura and I have homework to do, anyway.”

Sakura looks disappointed. “That’s right, we have school tomorrow…”

“Don’t fret, you two always manage,” Gilgamesh says.

Sakura smiles. “Thanks, Archer. I’ll do my best!”

---

After dressing, Saber steps outside before Gilgamesh, her body haloed by sunlight. She looks right at home in her new attire, particularly with her beret tilted rakishly on her head. Her new skirt sways about her ankles as she walks.

“Have any other Servants been sighted?” Saber asks, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Not yet—while a Master is dead, he appears to have been murdered before the summoning ritual.” He looks at her, the strong set of her shoulders and unclouded eyes. “We have time for amusement, in other words.”

“Amusement?” Saber shakes her head. “We must not waste a moment; if we plan now, we’ll have the upper hand.”

Another impasse. Gilgamesh can feel a headache coming on. “Listen, there must be something you find joy in. Even your most stalwart knight could lounge about from time to time.”

“And what if I find joy in planning for battle, King of Heroes?”

His head pounds; he does his best to ignore it. “…Then I will gladly assist you.” Yet is that the truth?

Saber pauses then nods. “As you are a long-range fighter, we will need battlefields that can accommodate us both. A field, perhaps, or that seaside park.”

“The large bridge as well—it has enough length and width that a battle could be fought there without issue.”

“That is true,” Saber says. “Especially at night, when no-one is about.”

Gilgamesh summons a bowl of oranges and begins leisurely peeling one. He watches and listens as Saber talks, waiting for the telltale lilt or enthusiastic burst of speed in her words. He occasionally adds his own opinion, to see if that spurs a change. Instead, Saber’s tone remains very calm and collected, without fail. How vexing.

Eventually, Saber falls silent. They have made it to the garden, with its sweet-smelling lilacs that sway like chimes in the breeze. Saber inspects the gem-based security system, occasionally perking up at the sounds of cars driving by.

“Archer,” she says, once her inspection is complete, “what do you enjoy?”

The orange’s skin gives way, revealing the vibrant, pulpy flesh beneath. Acidic juice runs down his hand, dropping onto the grass. He scoops up the remaining rivulets with a finger and licks the tangy-sweet juice thoughtfully.

“I find joy in many things,” he says, after a moment. “ Pleasure-trips. The hot-limbed embrace of another. Power. I find pleasure in the beauty of myself and others, and the virtues and vices of mongrels; the modern-era calls this ‘people-watching’.”

“So many things…” Saber murmurs, as if she can’t believe it.

“Those are only the beginning. As this world is my garden, I shall enjoy it to the utmost.”

Saber frowns. “You mentioned…embracing another. Does that have to do with your knowledge of the heart and body?”

Well, well. “Why yes, of course.”

Saber’s eyes widen—she’s put two and two together. Her flushed cheeks could compare with Kariya’s. “So…when earlier, that was…?!”

A lazy smile glides across his lips. “…An offer of carnal knowledge, yes.”

Saber’s embarrassment melts away, replaced with a steely glare. “That was a poor jape, King of Heroes. Be grateful you are my ally, or I would have your head!”

How vexing.

“…A jape? No, it was a sincere offer.” He cocks his head to one side, brows pinched. “You are beautiful and bold—surely you receive offers such as this thrice over daily?”

Saber scoffs. “Matters of the heart are trying and overcomplicated; as King, I have other needs to attend to.”

“Ah, so you gain no joy from it?”

Interestingly, she responds with a reluctant shake of the head. There’s a faint dusting of pink on her cheeks.

“…I have only seen others ensnared by romance. I have no idea how I feel about it.”

“I see…consider it noted!”

He finishes peeling the orange. It sits in the palm of his hand like a glistening jewel.

Saber stares at it hungrily.

“Famished so soon?” Gilgamesh teases, holding out the treat to her. “Here.”

Saber’s hand lifts…then pauses. “Now you’re jesting.”

“Not in the least. This was meant for you from the beginning.” He lets the orange roll in his palm, the juice soaking his skin. “Or would you prefer a pomegranate?”

He doesn’t expect an answer. Any moment she’ll scoff and turn away, calling him a degenerate or some such.

She proves him wrong.

“I would like a peach.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “Would you now…? Very well.”

He summons a plump, ripe peach and hands it to her. She wastes no time biting into it, wiping the pale juice trickling down her chin with a thumb.

They continue their stroll, eating their fruit in silence. Well, I can count food among Saber’s joys, at least.

---

As the afternoon edges into dusk, Rin and Sakura’s Familiars return with news.

“Guess what, guess what?” Rin looks ready to leap out the sitting room window in excitement…until she composes herself. “I think someone’s trying to build a Bounded Field in the city park. It’s hard for my Familiars to see who it is from the air, but that’s okay. It’s obviously a Master.”

“Hmm…” Gilgamesh rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Then they are preparing either a battlefield or a base of operations.” He grins. “Whichever it is, this is something to investigate!”

Sakura looks thrilled. “Can we go now, Archer?”

“Alas for you, this time it will be Saber and I who perform reconnaissance.” He points to the piles of homework still spread out on the varnished table—a perfect excuse. “I see your work is still unfinished. Consider yourself spared a boring evening!”

“But…” Sakura’s brows furrow.

“But…!” Rin’s fists clench.

“Please, don’t worry,” Saber says, her expression soft. “We will tell you everything when we return.”

Gilgamesh and Saber depart, leaving their two Masters to sulk.

---

The sky is painted with wispy clouds as the two Kings head to the park.

The days pass so quickly—were the heavens not blue only a moment ago? Now, they are already turning orange.

He grows far more concerned about the prana he can feel emanating from Saber.

One thing is certain: she does have prana, and plenty of it…but not enough. It’s as if some of it was lost when she was summoned, in a parallel to Gilgamesh’s own situation.

Saber is well-aware of her predicament: she’s been resting and eating to cover the damage, but eventually that won’t be enough.

Like a cracked goblet, the loss must be mended or made up for. He thinks of Kariya and grins. I wonder if he would mind serving another King…?

Then they arrive at the park, and he focuses on the matter at hand.

In the light of dusk, the park looks eerie, with shadows hunched over the grass, spreading from the lonely gazebo. The surrounding trees look more like indistinct, dark lumps. Here is where Kariya and I wrested Sakura from those vile worms, and he offered his blood to me. How strange, that I can recall it so vividly…

The Bounded Field parts easily, the blue and red strands pulling back like curtains to bid them enter. As soon as Gilgamesh takes another step, he grimaces in distaste.

…Something profanes this place. It is difficult to avoid: the grotesque, pulsating turmoil of prana permeates the park like a disease. It’s utterly disgusting and utterly obvious as to this eyesore’s identity.

Saber summons her armor, already in a fighting position.

“You can sense it too, Saber,” Gilgamesh says, his armor glowing to life around him.

“Yes—Berserker is here. Be careful, Archer.”

“Oh, it seems we’ve been spotted,” a deep, pompous voice speaks from the gazebo.

The mongrel who strides out to meet them is that rare breed whose appearance matches their voice to a “t”: portly, with slicked-back blond hair, and well-made clothes of white and gold befitting a baron. Unlike Tokiomi, this man doesn’t seem to suffer the loss of vitality common to Berserker’s Masters…yet. Those gray eyes gaze at them with suspicion.

“Two Servants,” he mutters, running a hand across his face in discomfort. “That means two Masters have joined forces…”

“I take it you are a Master,” Saber says, stating the obvious with surprising decorum.

“That I am! I am Gordes Musik Yggdmillenia—and my Servant shall be your opponent!”

He raises his hand then brings it down, like an executioner’s axe.

Behind Gilgamesh, a meaty hand grabs him by the waist and lifts him. The thumb encircles his waist perfectly.

Before she’s out of sight, Saber stares at him with widening eyes.

Up and up, higher and higher; a flock of birds perched on the gazebo watch his ascent. While this feels slow, in reality it takes only a moment.

The hand draws back and throws effortlessly.

In a blur of rushing wind, Gilgamesh sees through watering eyes the trees looming to meet him—

Crunch.

His armor protects his flesh and bones, but just barely. His vision swirls and lurches; he touches the back of his head and comes away with bloody shards of wood. I must stand. I need to stand…!

He slowly gets to his feet. Blood trickles down the back of his neck and begins drying—but at least his vision is clearing.

Saber’s already placed herself between Gilgamesh and the new Servant. She adjusts Excalibur, ready to strike.

“Surprise,” the new Servant says, his voice even deeper than his Master’s. His red eyes glint with amusement.

He’s colossal, with sun-browned skin not unlike Rider’s. A relative of his, perhaps? Hmm, but Rider didn’t have a fur pelt. Wild black hair erupts from its head like a mane—and his biceps alone are as wide and muscular as a bull.

“So,” Saber says, “the prana we were sensing just now was yours?”

“No,” says the Gordes mongrel, speaking as if he savors every syllable. “Assassin and I killed Berserker and their Master an hour ago. We used the leftover prana to mask ourselves.”

“…That is Assassin?!” Gilgamesh jabs a finger toward the mongrel in question.

Assassin folds his beefy arms over his chest and nods. He almost looks offended.

“Hm. They grow meatier each War,” Gilgamesh says snidely, summoning his bow and quiver.

“Guard me,” Saber replies before charging forward.

Gilgamesh doesn’t need to think as he nocks, draws and looses volley after volley of arrows; the bowstring rumbles like thunder beneath his fingers. He has a large target, and no need to fear missing.

Saber is a blur of blue and silver, almost black in the fading light. The park rings with the sounds of Saber’s blade piercing flesh.

—And yet.

No matter how many times Saber strikes, Assassin never falters. Instead, his body ripples and pulses in a sickening rhythm, covering new wounds with new flesh.

Gilgamesh lowers his bow. After a moment’s pause, he summons a long-handled axe. The heft is familiar, almost comforting. Now, if I can creep out of this mongrel’s sight…

Saber turns, as if to admonish him. He’s long gone.

As Assassin’s fists get Saber’s attention, Gilgamesh alights from tree to tree. Dead leaves flutter across his vision. He brushes them away. The branches barely bend beneath his boots.

Finally, he has a view of Assassin’s defenseless back. Gilgamesh tenses his legs. His muscles coil and strain. Yes, mongrel, keep your eyes on Saber…

Saber jumps back. Now’s his chance—

His leaping shadow falls over Assassin’s head. He swings his axe down with all his weight.

Yes! His arms shudder as the blade makes contact, breaking through the flesh and bone like silk. Blood oozes from the wound like tree sap, a repulsive sight.

Gilgamesh braces his feet on Assassin’s shoulders, feeling the axe bury deeper. “How do you fare now, mongrel?”

No answer. He takes the time to rest his arms on the quivering handle, as satisfied as a farmer after a fine harvest.

Saber looks up at him with relief. Ah, what a sight to behold…I wish to see more!

With an emboldened heart, he wrenches the axe free inch by inch. To call it “defiled” would be an understatement—he doesn’t dare think about the mealy matter caked on the blade.

He returns the axe to his Treasury. Thinking fast, he summons a simple sword, worthy of a simple mongrel.

Saber doesn’t have time to shout. Gilgamesh feels the flesh beneath him quake and mend. He takes the hint and jumps.

Assassin’s fist whooshes past his side; Gilgamesh drops and rolls to his feet back where he started. Ah, well. The bow it is.

As Saber resumes her barrage, it’s clear that Assassin’s far too durable; she could slice him like a pork roast for a thousand years and he would still be standing. This requires a new strategy.  

“Saber!” Gilgamesh yells, and Saber backs off.

In a flash, she’s before him. “What—?”

There’s no time to register Assassin’s movements.

All Gilgamesh can do is watch the earth tilt around him and hear his armor shriek in protest. That was a punch, then. A kick would have—no, best not think of that.

His back thuds against the grass. A shadow crosses over him.

Then Saber lands atop him.

Burning pain blossoms in his ribs. His armor’s caving in, digging into his flesh.

“Off,” he gasps, “off!”

Saber scrambles off of him, looking more miserable than he. Her armor is in one piece, but she clutches her stomach as if about to vomit. Blood flecks her lips.

Fortunately for them, Assassin is the overconfident sort. He’s just standing there, watching them and waiting for their next move.

Then Gilgamesh notices something: Assassin has a bow of his own, slung across his shoulder. It proves just how sure the mongrel is of victory—he’s only used hand-to-hand “combat” up until now. The good news is that with Saber constantly slashing at him, Assassin can’t use it; the bad news is he does have that chance…. This could prove troublesome.

Gilgamesh reaches for his bow—and with a pounding heart, realizes that Assassin’s waiting for a portal to appear. Will I be able to summon my bow again, before Assassin attacks? Doubtful.

“Saber,” he says regretfully, “this is a losing battle. We must retreat, or risk annihilation!”

Saber’s expression hardens, as if the very thought of retreat is offensive to her. Then she relents and nods.

“So,” says the Gordes mongrel, “you’re retreating? A wise choice.”

Gilgamesh can feel Sakura’s Magecraft slowly knitting his body back together—it’s not as fast as he’d like, but it’ll have to do.

“The next time we battle,” Gilgamesh calls to Assassin, “the outcome will be far different!”

Assassin shrugs and lets them leave. But then he did just prove his mettle twice over; a fitting conclusion for a hero. In the encroaching evening, he looms like the highest mountain.

---

Gilgamesh’s body is barely able to teleport back to the mansion, but somehow he succeeds. Saber has to support him through the door, her arm supporting his waist with a firm yet gentle touch. At the very least, my limbs are relatively stable…

They arrive just in time to see Sakura heading for bed. She stares at Gilgamesh as though she can’t believe it. Then her gaze turns to her feet, her entire body seeming to droop.

“I’m sorry, Archer,” Sakura murmurs, defeat heavy in her voice. “You’re hurt…we shouldn’t have told you about that Bounded Field…”

A foreign emotion pierces his buzzing mind like a burning fire-poker. He can’t bring himself to look at Sakura. He yearns to say this fight was a trifle. But that is an obvious lie.

“This battle is not yet over,” he manages, grinning for her sake.

“Correct,” Saber says, her grip on him loosening slightly.

Saber is fully healed—it seems her class has granted her many gifts. She looks at Gilgamesh with something resembling concern.

“Sakura, I would suggest you rest.” Despite her words, her tone is one of soft command. “Archer and I have much to speak about.”

Sakura lingers, however, her eyes trained like a hawk at Gilgamesh’s armor. She looks like a little ghost, pale and mute, despite wishing to speak.

“I will be well in the morning, Sakura,” he assures her. “Your healing is working…despite my current appearance.”

Finally, she nods and ascends the stairs, her footsteps whispering across the worn floorboards.

As soon as Gilgamesh senses Sakura’s abed, he sheds his armor and clutches at his middle once again. Yes, the torn flesh is mending, but the throbbing, burning pain lies over him like a shadow. He may have a broken rib. How nostalgic…

Perhaps he hit his head harder than he thought, if he’s thinking such things.

It’s at this moment that Kariya walks in from the living room. As soon as he sees Gilgamesh’s state his smile falters.

“Archer, are you—?”

Gilgamesh is forced to lean his back against the staircase, close his eyes and take deep, shuddering breaths until the burning subsides. It feels like an eternity until he can inhale without feeling metal (or worse, bone) jabbing through his skin.

He opens his eyes; Kariya is standing before him with outstretched hands, as if waiting for him to pitch forward.

“Kariya. I require mana.”

This is a familiar routine by now. Yet under different circumstances, Gilgamesh would still find pleasure in watching Kariya pull at his collar and bare his pale neck in offering. Gilgamesh doesn’t care if Saber’s watching—he curls his hand behind Kariya’s head and eases his neck towards his mouth.

Gilgamesh wets his lips before biting down on that pale, thick vein rich with blood. He can feel Kariya’s pulse quickening beneath his lips, the barely-audible gasp as his teeth pierce skin. The flavor of copper and the icy spark of mana fill his mouth, glide down his throat like the finest of wines.

Kariya grabs Gilgamesh’s shoulder for support, his hand warm and slick with sweat. Have you been hoping for this moment? How delightful. Gilgamesh’s fingers stroke Kariya’s untamed hair, gently, gently.

When Gilgamesh has his fill, he kisses the mark he left in a gesture meant to comfort—Kariya’s a worrywart at the best of times, and Gilgamesh doesn’t have the energy for that.

Gilgamesh turns his head to look at Saber, who apparently hadn’t moved this whole time. She’s staring at them as though bewitched, until she glances away shyly—neither are bad looks, in his opinion.

“Much better,” he murmurs, licking the remaining blood from his lips. “Do you wish to partake, Saber?”

“…Perhaps another time,” she says, quickly regaining her composure. “We need a plan to defeat Assassin, and soon. Kariya, was it? Rin has told me of your work; you may be of help.”

Kariya’s flushed face could have many sources, but his determined smile has only one. “I’d be glad to.”

The fog of pain over Gilgamesh’s mind recedes, replaced with a ravenous hunger for revenge. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let us begin!”

Chapter Text

Sakura’s eyes flutter open, winter sunlight peering in through the curtains. Her gurgling belly woke her up. When she sits up in bed, her body seems determined to stay under the covers: she feels groggy and sluggish. Her uneven sleep schedule has finally come to haunt her. Or…maybe it’s from healing Archer last night?

Still, she gets through her morning routine well enough, and comes downstairs refreshed and ready for breakfast.

She has enough time to eat before either Kariya or Aoi drive her and Rin to elementary school. While normally Sakura is happy to wear the same green uniform as her sister, today it seems to symbolize life getting in the way of their roles as Masters. Only the ring on her finger reminds her of her other life.

She frowns and shakes her head. I wanted to go to school with everyday people, I can’t back out now! I’ll just say good morning to Archer like always.

When she gets to the kitchen, however…

The table is overwhelmed with papers, from maps of Fuyuki to notepads full of scribbled words. Archer, Saber and Kariya are seated around the mess, looking like they’re on the verge of giving up on…whatever they’re doing.

“What’s happening?” Sakura asks, worry buzzing through her head.

Archer groans and runs a hand over his face, as if trying to wake himself up. He’s practically slumped onto the table. “Absolute frustration.”

It looks like Saber’s fast asleep, judging by her slow, steady breathing. She can sleep sitting up, huh? Cool!

“’Morning, Sakura,” Kariya says, looking remarkably awake and cheerful by comparison to Archer, “did you sleep well?”

“Good morning! Um…I think so.”

Archer seems all too eager to push away the clutter and let Sakura eat breakfast. As always, Aoi’s cooking is delicious; a traditional, simplified meal of earthy miso soup and savory rice served with a cup of milk.

Sakura sneaks a peek at one of the scribbled notes—the spidery handwriting looks like Archer’s. It reads something like this:

Assassin: intense strength and speed

Dig a pit? (Scratched out.) No time!

His weight does not bother him; drown him instead?

Red eyes, thus DIVINITY

Identity: Heracles (Hercules?)

Still too nimble for Chains of Heaven…

THROW KILLING STONE?!?! (Scratched out with intense red ink.)

It will miss.

Sakura smiles nervously. “Um…Archer, do you need some help?”

“Of course not,” Archer scoffs, as he adds another spoonful of sugar to his tea. He stirs it with wild eyes. “There is always a way…yes, always…”

“Y’know, it’s a good thing you’re technically already dead,” Kariya says, his tone as dry as a desert, “because you’d have a heart attack twice over by now.”

Archer sighs and takes a long sip of tea. “Yes, yes, duly noted. Pay us no mind, Sakura; you have lessons to learn.”

“…Okay,” she says, her heart slowly sinking.

The newspaper’s report about another gas leak doesn’t make her feel any better. But Mother always checks the stove, so we should be okay.

After breakfast, when Aoi drives them to school, Sakura tells Rin about the Assassin problem. As the city rolls by, Sakura watches Rin’s reflection stare out the window thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, Sakura,” Rin mutters, scratching her head. “We should probably just wait for somebody else to take Assassin out…”

“That makes sense.” Sakura fidgets against the leather car seat. “I mean, somebody’s got to be strong enough.”

Aoi’s reflection smiles in the rearview mirror. “I know I’m not a Mage,” she says with a hint of sadness, “but if I was in your place, I’d try to think cleverly.”

Sakura perks up. “Like in a fairytale?”

Aoi nods, braking before a crowd of pedestrians.

Rin grins. “Sure! That’s worked well for you before, Sakura, so why not now?”

Rin’s praise fills Sakura with warm joy, far better than the morning sun.

---

While outwardly, Sakura does the day’s assignments without complaint, inwardly she focuses on dealing with Assassin.

When making origami in Arts and Crafts, she finds herself folding paper in the lumpy shape of an arrow instead of a crane. She pays special attention in History, hungry for strategy ideas. She loses track of the melody in Music, her recorder piping loud and off-key (but then everyone else sounds the same).

She wonders if Rin’s having the same difficulty concentrating, one grade ahead. Probably not—she’s used to this routine by now.

However, it’s during Sakura’s least-favorite class, PE, that an idea hits her. 

The gym always smells of sweat, fresh varnish and rubber, from the basketballs to the slippery wooden floor. No matter how hard the janitors clean and scrub, Sakura always thinks this place looks like part of a hospital, not a school. How Rin can enjoy this class, Sakura has no idea. Maybe the varnish reminds her of Father's study? But he had much better sense of smell! 

“All right, everyone,” says the energetic teacher, “we’re going to practice push-ups and sit-ups today!”

Sakura sighs with relief—the dreaded specter of running laps is banished for today. It’ll still be boring, and I’ll be sweaty, but at least I won’t fall on my face or knock over anyone!

Sakura unrolls her squishy blue mat and tries to follow the teacher’s warm-up instructions. She finds herself remembering Archer telling her about one treasure he has: a large cloth that will make any food you want, if you sit and chant in a certain way. Hmm…maybe we could bribe Assassin with food? If the cloth already has the ingredients, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

She changes her mind. Assassin’s too smart for that to work, he’ll think it’s a trap! Inwardly, she shudders at the idea of such an amazing treasure being torn to shreds by an angry Assassin.

Warm-ups are done, time for push-ups. The mat sinks under Sakura as she lies on her belly, propped up by her arms. As she slowly lifts her upper body, her mind turns toward the story Aoi read last night—“The Soldier and Death”. Mother’s right—fairy tales are full of cleverness. That old palace would’ve been infested with demons forever, if the Soldier hadn’t brought his magic cards and sack…

Sakura pauses, her muscles straining as she struggles to keep her body lifted. “That’s it…!”

“Good self-motivation, Tohsaka!” the teacher says with merry obliviousness.  

“Thank you, Teacher,” Sakura quickly replies, determined to keep quiet from now on. Her muscles ache as she bends her arms back down. She focuses her mind on Archer. Archer, I think I have an idea!

Archer quickly responds. If you’re resorting to this rudimentary method, it must be serious. Speak.

Sakura’s concentration falters as she nearly loses her balance. Oof—Archer, are you still there?

…Yes. Are you climbing a mountain?  

No, just doing push-ups. Anyway, do you know the story ‘The Soldier and Death’?

Hmm…now that I have it before me, I will know of it shortly. A moment.

Sure!

By the time PE ends, Sakura is sweaty, exhausted and relieved that it’s over. She wonders if she should ask Archer how he’s doing—but then, it’s a long fairytale. He might be showing it to Saber, too.

Just as she finishes getting a cool drink of water, Archer finally contacts her again—it’s very strange, hearing Archer chuckle in her head.

I believe your idea has some merit! I can check if a similar sack is among my treasures; I have faith that it is.

Sakura has a suspicion Archer’s saying that to keep her focused on school. She doesn’t mind, it won’t be long until classes end anyway. Great, I’ll see later, Archer!

Archer’s response is surprisingly serious: Be careful, now. I have reason to believe there will be other Masters on the prowl.

But despite his words, Sakura’s day continues uneventfully. Sure, she might overhear some teachers talking about yet another gas leak in town, but that’s nothing to worry about.

---

Afternoon.

Sakura and Rin walk outside together, the elementary school grounds still teeming with students. Orange sunlight shines on the school windows, making them look like molten bronze. At this time of day, the building looks very lonely and hollow. 

Rin’s friend Kotone waves them over, sitting at a metal bench. There are other kids with her, each holding blue cards in their hands.

“We’re trading Pokemon cards, want to play?” Kotone asks.

“Hm? What’s that?” Rin asks, cocking her head to one side.

“How do you not know Pokemon, stupid?” one of the boys asks, a stuck-up grin on his face.

Sakura speaks up before Rin can. “No-one wants to play with someone rude.”

Stuck-Up Boy scrunches up his face like an angry bull. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

It’s Rin’s turn now. “Then I will. Get lost!”

Finally, Stuck-Up Boy takes the hint and storms off, and a dreamy-eyed girl apologizes before strolling after him. Maybe they’re siblings?

It seems that the rest of the kids are friends of Rin’s. They seem relieved that Sakura and Rin chased away Stuck-Up Boy, instead of annoyed.

“He’s no friend of ours,” one of the girls says, a brunette with tan skin and barely-restrained energy. “He keeps trying to lord it over everyone else, so annoying!”  

With that disruption over, Kotone shows them an array of creatures on the cards, made in oil-paint: one looks a little like a rabbit with a thunderbolt-tail, another like a giant brown bull, and a blue radish. They’re cute, and the art is pretty.

“So, you can trade with these? But…” Sakura points at the weird symbols and descriptions. “These say you can ‘fight’ with them too…?”

Kotone and the others are happy to explain. Sakura can’t really keep up with it, but she likes seeing all the different monsters and their strengths and weaknesses. It’s a little like Magecraft that way. While she can’t say this aloud, the look she shares with Rin lets her know she isn’t the only one who noticed.

Warm contentment settles over Sakura, as she feels her way into the rhythm of Rin’s group. Rin actually cracks a joke now and again, and Sakura laughs at both the punch line and Rin’s enthusiasm. This is…nice. I guess Rin isn’t as alone as I thought!

The fun is interrupted when Kirei strides through the school gate, his shadow stretching out before him.

Sakura’s always surprised that she recognizes him—he doesn’t look very different from the other priests in Father Risei’s church. He has the same black uniform, the same gold cross, the same brown hair and eyes. The only thing that marks Kirei as Father Risei’s literal son is their equally-dramatic eyebrows. They also have similar hairstyles—Kirei’s hair is shorter than Father Risei’s, but it still curls at the ends.

While two kids run away, more stay behind. Some of them seem to know Kirei, judging by their happy greetings.

“Mr. Kirei, tell Father Risei Dad’s back is doing better now!”

“That is good to know, Tohma,” Kirei says with his voice as deep as a dark well. “I will certainly tell him.”

“Mr. Kirei, thanks for the advice earlier.”

“You’re welcome, Ayu.”

“Will I grow as tall as you one day, Mr. Kirei?”

Kirei pauses at this, and looks at the girl thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Mimi?”

“…Um, yeah, most of the time.”

Kirei nods, and his lips curl upward. “Then that’s certainly possible.”

Rin’s posture is stiff, as if she’s waiting for a storm to blow over. “What’re you doing here, Kirei?”

“Hello, Rin. Your Mother and Uncle are busy, and I’ve been tasked to escort you both home.”

Ah, he ignored me again. For some reason, he hasn’t paid Sakura any mind since the night he helped kill Zouken. Her pet theory is it’s because he’s a Healer, and she isn’t in trouble very much. The Family Crest on Rin’s arm burns from time to time, so it’s only right that Kirei check on her.

Rin doesn’t like the attention much, though. “…Fine,” she mutters, before putting on a smile for everyone. “Well, let’s play again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Kotone says with a smile.

Sakura bows politely before following Kirei and Rin, eager to get back home. She catches up at the worst possible time—Kirei’s in lecture-mode again.

“…You must focus on your objective, Rin,” he says with boring sternness. “Concerning yourself with childish things isn’t the mark of a Mage.”

Rin nods, struggling to match Kirei’s long strides. His shadow dwarfs hers, seeming to swallow it whole—or maybe that’s Sakura’s roiling anger talking.

“Rin’s always working hard, give her a break!”

“It’s fine, Sakura,” Rin says—her hands are clenched into fists, is she worried? “Kirei’s right, this time.”

“I’m relieved that you agree.”

There’s a silky feeling to Kirei’s voice, not quite cruel and not quite kind. It brings to mind stern stepparents bringing their unwanted children to a dark forest—but not before handing them a single loaf of bread for the journey.

The conversation changes before Sakura can argue further.

“Rin, please tell your mother the package she left in my care is being delivered as we speak.”

“…Okay. What kind of package?”

Even from behind, Sakura can tell Kirei is smiling. “One meant to be a secret.”

“For us?” Sakura asks, as they stop before a blinking traffic light.

“What a selfish question. I’m afraid not.”

They stand in silence. It feels like the blinking “do not walk” sign is taunting Sakura, making her linger with this boring priest. She feels restless, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Rin and Kirei seem content just to stand and watch the cars roll by.

A sea of adult legs swarm around Sakura toward the other crosswalks or streets, eerily silent as they either go home or to work, suitcases and book bags barely moving in their hands. But nobody compares to Kirei's looming height and solemn expression, and people are extra polite when passing him. He doesn't seem to notice.

Finally, the sign switches to “walk”, and Rin takes the lead, strolling across the crosswalk with forced cheerfulness. Sakura’s interested in Kirei’s reaction—his brows furrow slightly, as if he wasn’t expecting Rin to act this way.

Sakura takes it on herself to focus Rin’s attention on her and talk as if Kirei isn’t here, hoping to get revenge on him for his lecture just now. The walk home passes much more peacefully this way.

However…

Sakura notices something off when they almost reach the mansion. The sidewalks are still bustling, and the sky is still a rich blue, but it feels as if she’s waiting for something. Waiting for a conversation to begin.

Kirei stops walking and turns about with robotic precision. “Are you lost, little girl?” he asks.

Sakura follows his gaze, wondering how she didn’t hear anyone until just now.  

“Not really,” says a young girl, her long blonde hair and striking blue eyes marking her as a foreigner. “Though I do need the protection of the Church.”

Sakura looks at those eyes, overflowing with strength enough to stop anyone in their tracks, and wonders how a girl like this could need protection at all. She might look like a doll, but she’s nobody’s toy. Even her blue dress, black tights and blue beret look more like a soldier’s uniform than casual clothes. Maybe that’s because of all the silver crosses…the metal rose on her beret is pretty, though.

“I see,” Kirei says, sounding as enthusiastic as someone about to get a cavity removed. “You’re a Mage as well.”

Sakura’s heart begins to race. We’re in public, and it’s not nighttime yet…but that might not stop her from fighting us!

The girl’s eyes fix on Sakura’s, and a cold smile glides crosses her lips. She bobs a curtsy with practiced ease.

“Good day, Rin and Sakura Tohsaka. I am Reines El-Melloi Archisorte, niece to Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald.”

The hairs on the back of Sakura’s neck prickle. “I—I’m Ms. Sophia-Ri’s—”

“—Student, I know,” Reines says, folding her arms across her chest. “The Sophia-Ri family is allied with mine, which makes you untouchable. The fact remains that your Servant murdered my Uncle Kayneth…and that’s not something I can just ignore.”

Rin steps in front of Sakura, shoulders squared and poised to fight.

“Why’re you even here, Archisorte?” Rin snaps. “You’re not a Master!”

“Wrong,” Reines says coolly. She rolls up her sleeve and shows off the blood-red rose on her arm, stark against her porcelain skin. Her voice drops to a whisper: “It seems the Grail has a fondness for my family, don’t you think?”

Sakura can’t believe it—but not for long. Her gaze flicks up and down the street, trying to figure out where Reines’ Servant could be. She doesn’t see or hear anything, but—

“Hey,” Reines says, her voice sweet and cruel. “Why don’t you do a riddle-battle with me, like you did against Sophia-Ri? Do I not look smart enough for you?”

“No, no,” Sakura says, latching onto that option like a lifeline. “I’ll do it!”

Rin looks at Sakura, her eyes widening in alarm. “Sakura, wait, this could be a trap!”

It’s Kirei who answers. “No, Rin, I don’t think so. This is a test.”

Reines nods. “That’s right. This is my revenge. If you win, I’ll leave you alone after this.”

“But if you win…?” Rin asks suspiciously.

Reines tosses her hair over her shoulder. Her grin has a slight wryness to it. “I’ll say it up-front: I have a rotten personality. If I win, I get the satisfaction of seeing you fail.”

Oh. That makes sense.

Sakura takes a slow, deep breath and exhales. “Okay. Best of three?”

Reines rolls down her sleeve again, looking pleased. “How about best of one? You go first.”

“…Okay,” Sakura says, her heart still pounding. It’s hard to think of a riddle with Reines and Kirei staring at her so intensely.

“You can do it, Sakura,” Rin whispers, as she steps back to stand beside her. Her presence makes Sakura breathe easier.

“Well?” Reines asks sharply. “Please go ahead.”

Sakura glares at her. “What needs an answer, but asks no questions?”

She’s aware that this isn’t the best riddle she’s asked, but it’s complicated enough—

“A phone, obviously.” Reines’ smile hasn’t left her face. “My turn?”

Sakura’s heart sinks; she tries not to stare down at her shoes. “Sure, go ahead.”

Reines clears her throat delicately and says: “Say my name, and I disappear. What am I?”

Sakura’s brain isn’t working right today. She knows what she heard, but she has no idea what the answer could be. It’s so vague as to be anything, and with Reines’ unblinking stare facing Sakura down she would rather disappear.

There’s some mercy in this world: Reines hasn’t told her to hurry up or anything like that. Instead, she simply shrugs and begins talking to Kirei. Apparently, she snuck away from her guardian at the Church, and tailed Kirei here after hearing that he’d be picking up Rin and Sakura.

But Sakura doesn’t care about that. Her palms are growing slick and itchy with sweat. Her head pounds as she struggles to figure out the answer. Nothing comes. Hot frustration boils in her belly, and she grits her teeth. I can’t give up—there’s got to be an answer!

“Sakura,” Kirei says, finally using her name. “There is no shame in not knowing the answer. It’s not as if you have lost at your own strategy…”

Sakura’s blood roars in her ears—and suddenly she has a solid guess.

“It’s ‘a devil’! You can exorcise devils by knowing their name, right, Kirei?”

Kirei shrugs one shoulder lazily. “That’s possible, but…” He glances at Reines with a small smile.

“That’s a creative answer,” Reines says, looking genuinely impressed. “But the real answer is ‘silence’.”

Sakura wants to kick herself for not guessing something so obvious—or perhaps sink through the concrete. She can feel her cheeks burning, and her body crawling with shame. Stupid, stupid, stupid; I should’ve just ignored Kirei…!

Despite how her spirits are sinking, she lifts her head high and looks at Reines head-on. “You win, congratulations,” she says honestly.

Reines’ eyes linger on Sakura’s face as if she’s a beautiful painting. After a moment, she nods. “Thank you, you were as interesting as I expected. I’ll gladly withdraw.”

Sakura, who’d expected Reines to gloat, sighs in relief and smiles.

Rin doesn’t back down, however. “How do we now you won’t attack us anyway?”

“There is nothing to worry about,” Kirei says, smiling. “You see, those Command Seals are fake.”

There’s a long, drawn-out pause, as if the world around them is trying to understand the joke. Sakura stares at Kirei, uncomprehending.

Reines’ laugh is surprisingly warm, considering her attitude. “Almost got you, didn’t I?”

“Indeed,” Kirei says, a tinge of amusement in his voice. “Had I not seen those Command Seals removed myself, I might have been fooled as well. Your drawing skills are quite impressive.”

Reines now looks at Kirei as shrewdly as Rin and Sakura. “Speaking from experience, you’re a suspicious man. But if nothing else, you’re honest about walking people home safely.” She glances down the street. “Tohsaka…Sakura, are we near your house?”

“Yes,” Sakura replies—worry that Reines will invite herself to dinner slithers through her head.

“Good,” Reines says, turning on her heel with ladylike poise. “Priest, accompany me to the Church. Waver will be wondering where I am.”

All at once, Sakura’s spirits begin to rise a little. “Waver’s here too?”

Reines looks over her shoulder and nods. “Personally, I’d call that a strange sign. The Grail doesn’t usually choose the same Masters twice…but he’ll be glad to see you, too.”

Then she begins marching away down the street.

Sakura wonders why Waver didn’t contact her, but she soon realizes why: If he just brought Reines here specifically to get her Command Seals removed, or wanted to summon Rider again, the Grail wouldn’t give him Command Seals early like with Rin.

Something about what Reines said catches Sakura’s attention—and Rin’s too.

As Kirei moves ahead of Reines to lead the way, Rin calls out “Archisorte, wait!”

Reines pauses and looks over her shoulder again. “Yes?”

“Your family was chosen again too,” Rin says, her hands on her hips. “That must mean you need ‘it’, right?” She’s vague to keep outsiders from getting involved.

Reines’ laughter is delicate, barely heard over the rumbling cars. “I don’t have a wish, Tohsaka,” she proclaims. “And politics is my chosen battlefield. Good day.”

Kirei doesn’t bother saying a farewell of his own. He simply raises a hand before letting it fall to his side.

Rin and Sakura watch the odd pair walk away, the afternoon sun casting a white glow around them.

“I like her,” Sakura says, to her own surprise.

“Wait, seriously?!”

Sakura shrugs. “I don’t know why, I just do.”

Rin chews it over for a moment then smirks. “Oh-ho, I see—it’s because she’s a little like Archer, right?”

“…Huh. That’s a good point.”

They continue chatting about Reines as they begin the final leg of their trek. Sakura can see the mansion’s chimney from here.

A cool breeze whispers against Sakura’s hair, and she hears Archer say “The only similarity I can see between that girl and I is in our mixed emotions on that priest. And yet, he did accompany you without incident…perhaps I shall be more lenient toward him.”

Sakura squints up at where she suspects Archer’s standing. “Really? You’ve been really sneaky about that, then—I didn’t get that feeling from you at all!”

Archer scoffs. “A King should acknowledge a threat only if it acts as such. That priest has been nothing but dull since I met him, save for a few tepid moments of schadenfreude. Thus, he is the merest of mongrels—why bother concerning yourself about him?”

Rin snickers. “I like the way you think, Archer!”

“Were you watching us just now?” Sakura asks, adjusting the straps of her backpack.

“Yes—had trouble occurred, I would have assisted. But you two handled the situation quite well—you have my congratulations.”

Sakura’s proud smile matches Rin’s. Then she remembers what she and Archer spoke of earlier.  

“Ah, Archer, did you find that magic sack?”

“I did indeed! It took considerable time and effort; I expect compensation.”

Sakura smiles. “How about the plan working?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of your uncle cooking hot-pot tonight, assuming he has time—Saber has yet to experience such a rare delicacy. But a successful plan is nothing to scoff at, either.”

Rin blinks and cocks her head to one side. “Why do you like Uncle Kariya’s hot-pot so much, Archer? Besides because it’s delicious, I mean.”

“It is a good omen,” Archer says with a hint of pleasure. “It means he finished his assignment on time, and can relax for a moment—and your mother receives aid as well.”

“Why don’t you help Mother, Archer?” Sakura asks before she can stop herself. She waits for the inevitable response (“I am a King, not a cook!”), wishing she’d thought before she spoke.

Much to her surprise, Archer hums thoughtfully instead. “I do have some spices in my Treasury she could borrow now and again…yes, that would be possible.”

As Rin begins asking Archer why he has spices if he doesn’t use them, Sakura sees something out of the corner of her eye. It’s perched atop one of the nearby houses, a flash of black or white tucked behind a chimney—or that’s what it looked like. When she turns her head to look closer, all she sees is the patch of shadow any chimney would make.

…Well, at least it wasn’t Assassin. Right?

Chapter Text

Gilgamesh makes absolutely certain that Sakura and Rin are abed before he and Saber head out to face Assassin again. I would rather tell her and Rin of our victory or defeat when they are rested.

The plan was finalized over dinner (alas, Kariya was once again too busy to cook). Aoi in particular seemed to enjoy the idea, but she also doesn’t seem to comprehend just how dangerous an Assassin that can kill Berserkers is. But that’s to be expected of an outsider, I suppose.

He and Saber sit atop the mansion’s roof, overlooking the neighborhood and trying to sense their prey. The stars are out in force tonight, yet Fuyuki drowns them in its cheap light. Only the moon, appearing sharp as a sickle in the forced darkness, looks as it did from his palace in Uruk. It is unfair to compare this era to mine in life, but truly, modernity has myriad failings. It just so happens that I’ve acquired worthy distractions—for a time.

“Is there any sign of Assassin?” Saber asks, turning her head slowly in search of any strange sounds.

“Hmm—not yet. But then, he is a stealthy one.”

“This plan is quite…unique,” Saber says, flicking a glance at the sack in Gilgamesh’s gauntleted hand. “As is your chosen weapon for tonight.”

“I believe you mean ‘ugly’,” he replies, holding the sack up to the moonlight. “Look at these loose threads, this is the shoddiest craftsmanship of all my treasures!”

Saber lets out a breath of amusement; it condenses into fog in the brisk air. “And yet, you still keep it.”

“Of course. I shall never let a treasure spoil, no matter the quality.”

The Old Soldier’s Sack is made of patchwork wool and bits of silk for flavor, the clashing colors dulled by time. It’s as long as Gilgamesh’s torso, but that doesn’t seem to change the amount of things that can enter it. Even Death itself had no choice but to enter the sack when those magic words were spoken…a useful tool indeed.

“You remember the plan, Saber?”

She glares at him. “Of course—I still feel it is overcomplicated, however.”

“It certainly is. Assassin will expect a trick, so we shall give him one and hide the other.”

“…I see.” Saber almost sounds amused. “Your court must have been a viper’s nest.”

“Aren’t they all?”

“—Ah,” Saber says quietly, the moon casting a silvery glow to her blonde hair. “I found Assassin.”

“Excellent. Where?”

“He and his Master have moved bases since we last saw them—now they’re at the seaside park’s dock.”

Gilgamesh sighs. “Ah, that deathtrap. Very well.” He tosses the sack back into his Treasury—they have a ways to travel, this time, and he doesn’t wish to drop it.

“I know it well,” Saber says with an assured smile. “If there is a trap laid there, it’s a remarkably subtle one—there is no call to fight being issued.”

“Which only increases my suspicions.”

Saber shrugs, still unfazed. “We’ll investigate carefully, then.”

Without further ado, they begin their travel, the buildings and streets of Fuyuki passing them by in a whirl of color and sound. The lights are sapphire and emerald rather than ruby and gold, which create a sensation of dreariness no doubt unintentional. Assassin’s prana is barely noticeable at first, but there is a slight boldness to it that gives him away. It’s different from Rider’s boisterousness, more reminiscent of a loyal right-hand than the King they serve under.

Which reminds me…ah-ha, that boy hasn’t summoned him yet. Rider’s tie to whatever relic Waver has is so strong that Gilgamesh can still sense his presence before he’s even arrived. An impressive feat indeed!

There are no interruptions as he and Saber reach the docks. It’s as he remembered; all concrete expanse and walls of metal containers to hem combatants in.

He and Saber land on the concrete, marking their arrival. The cold white lamps around the area cast Saber in a sickly pallor, an unpleasant sight.

Out of the corner of Gilgamesh’s eye, Assassin strides out of the shadows. His footsteps vibrate through the ground even from a distance. His Master is seemingly elsewhere—which isn’t a problem. What had the Gordes mongrel done, really, in the last battle?

Saber wastes no time: “Assassin, I must say our previous battle was one to remember, especially now that we know your True Name. To face the Hydra-slayer in combat—that is a true honor!”

Assassin grins and extends a huge hand to Saber. “I thank you, Saber—no, King of Knights. Now that you know my name, I can say I enjoyed myself too.” His hand swiftly retracts, and there’s a sneaky gleam in his eye. “But then, why are you here? I could’ve sworn I beat you both handily. My luck in love is bottom-of-the-barrel—and Archer here has the personality of a wild bull, which I’ve had my fill of.”

Oh, if only you knew…

Saber shrugs. “Archer’s many vices aside”—she glances at Gilgamesh as if waiting for a rebuke, to which he simply grins and gives a small sarcastic bow—“we came for one reason only: to see your archery skills.”

Assassin blinks in surprise. Then he laughs contrary to what Gilgamesh expects: a wheezy chuckle instead of a bellow or rumble.

“Oh, you want a challenge of skill, do you? I’ll demonstrate right now.”

Gilgamesh blinks, and something hard and fast zips past his ear. He whips his head around—and finds that an arrow has lodged into one of the metal containers behind him. It’s buried in down to the fletching, and smoking ominously.

Assassin’s expression is steely as he lowers his bow—as expected, he’d been too fast to see. He slings the bow over his back with deceptive casualness. “These arrowheads are coated in Hydra poison. The only reason I missed just now is because you both deserve a more noble death than that.”

Saber nods, looking remarkably composed. “Thank you.”

Assassin grins and slinks into the shadows again.

Fortunately, Gilgamesh and Saber expected Assassin’s attack in their planning session.

When he bursts out from behind them, Saber’s already drawn Excalibur—and swings.

“Invisible Air!”

Wild wind hits Assassin full in the chest. It knocks him back a few inches. This gives Saber time to swing at him with all her strength.

If nothing else, they’ll give Assassin a worthy battle before they trick him.

Gilgamesh summons his bow and lets his arrows fly, meant more for annoyance than injury.

It’s almost a waste, feeling the heavy shafts in his fingers, the delicate fletching tickling his palm as he notches the arrows against the harsh string and draws it taut. But I can retrieve them later—this plan must succeed!

Saber’s got the pattern down: bludgeon Assassin with a flurry of sword-strikes, then sidestep or jump clear of any attack he might make, then repeat. Her armor glints in the moonlight.

The only reason Assassin hasn’t hit her yet is because she’s kept close to him. He’s hemmed in.

In that time, Gilgamesh returns his bow to his Treasury, making a show of trying to think fast.

Assassin’s fist only just misses Saber, crashing into the concrete and shattering it like glass. Heavy shards clack against her armor. One slices through her gown and cuts her leg. She only winces.

“Got you…” Assassin chuckles and reaches for her.

Gilgamesh doesn’t need to fake concern. “Saber!”

Saber backs away slowly. Her nod to him is almost imperceptible.

Gilgamesh retrieves the sack from his Treasury, putting on an irritated face as it drops into his hands. Then he sighs, and holds it out to Assassin as if it’s a prop in a magic show.

Assassin looks about as impressed as a man gifted with a piece of cardboard for his birthday. “That is nothing compared to the Golden Fleece, Archer. If you’re trying to barter—”

“—What do you think this is, mongrel?” Gilgamesh asks, making sure his voice is as snobbish as possible. (It’s effortless, of course.)

Assassin snorts. “What do you take me for? It’s just a sack!”

“Well, then,” Gilgamesh unlaces the sack’s mouth, letting it gape open wide and welcoming. “If it’s a sack: enter it!”

Assassin is unable to resist. None can, in the end. In that moment, a burst of wind rushes from the sack, snares Assassin and drags him toward it like a vacuum. Assassin tries to dig his feet in, but that pause only gives the vacuum time to increase its strength.

With a howl of rage, Assassin vanishes into the sack’s depths.

Now comes the difficult part. Gilgamesh strains to cinch the sack shut as Assassin writhes and bucks inside.

It’s a little like riding a wild horse, only this horse is enraged and hits like a train at a hundred miles per hour.

He’s holding on as best he can, his vision bouncing wildly; he squeezes his eyes shut to avoid being sick. The fabric strains ominously.

He can hear Saber walking toward him. “Assassin’s Master is here. Shall I begin negotiations?”

Assassin nearly rolls Gilgamesh over. His forehead almost brushes the concrete until he rights himself.

“Yes, and make haste.”

“What’s going on?!” the Gordes mongrel bellows from a distance.

“A bargain,” Saber says, her voice cutting through the silent night. “If you release Assassin from your Contract, we—”

Crack.

A gunshot rings out.

Gilgamesh and Saber instinctively cover their ears; the sound reverberates across the docks. Gilgamesh doesn’t need to look to see that Assassin’s Master won’t be bargaining any time soon. Even Assassin has stopped struggling. He will vanish shortly—would Sakura consider this a successful plan?

Saber uncovers her ears and casts a steely glare across the docks. “Kiritsugu,” she calls, her voice as cold as the desert at night. “I’m well-aware that was you just now—or one of your accomplices. I am surprised you waited this long to strike!”

Silence.

“Where is your Servant, Kiritsugu?” Saber actually sneers. “Or are you unwilling to share the battlefield with a true hero?”

Silence.

“Enough of this,” Gilgamesh mutters, before speaking clearly: “Pay that base mongrel no heed, Saber. The plan has changed—shall we let Assassin have his revenge?”

Saber turns to look at him, a hint of surprise on her face. Then her lips curl upward. “Certainly!”

Gilgamesh loosens his hold on the sack.

Assassin bursts free with a harsh rip. He doesn’t seem aware of Gilgamesh and Saber anymore. All he wants is a murderer’s head.

He doesn’t have any trouble finding Kiritsugu: he leaps into the air, toward one of the vacant buildings on the side. He’s so enraged he doesn’t bother screaming.

Just as Assassin reaches his goal—

—A blast strikes him.

It’s overwhelmingly loud; it coats the world in the red of a solar flare. Despite fire’s very nature, it’s a controlled burst.

It’s the work of a Servant.

It crackles through Assassin’s body in a burst before vanishing. Assassin thuds to the ground. His body contorts wretchedly.

Of course, that wouldn’t be enough to stop a son of Zeus. It does leave Assassin heavily injured, judging by the pitch-black burns smoking on his skin.

And yet, despite the pain, he looks up at the unseen Servant and laughs.

“You two,” he calls to Gilgamesh and Saber, “stay if you want, if not, leave. This Lancer is a fighter worthy of me!”

Offense twists in Gilgamesh’s head. He means to retort. But all that’s forgotten when he catches sight of Lancer’s spear, the moonlight briefly illuminating it.  

It’s a masterful creation; that much is certain. For some reason, it’s hard to see clearly, as if the spear’s design is beyond comprehension. Perhaps the night sky is the problem. Does it have a blade at the head, or is that a fan? What Gilgamesh is certain of is that the spear is gigantic—unwieldy, in fact. Yet Lancer carries it with the ease befitting his class.

In all his existence, Gilgamesh has never seen a spear like this before. If I had, I would certainly remember!

Assassin jolts Gilgamesh from his thoughts. He grabs his bow and launches into the air again, this time going after Lancer.

“Prepare yourself, Lancer!” Assassin roars his challenge.

A flurry of arrows blur across the moon’s image. They’re knocked down by the whoosh of the heavy spear. Sparks dance among the stars. Lancer remains in the shadows; yet their spear is proudly on display.  

“Archer,” Saber says, as Gilgamesh watches the proceedings. “Shall we stay and watch?”

“Naturally,” he replies, as neither of them takes their eyes off the battle. “Alas, the Old Soldier’s Sack has been torn considerably; it’ll need mending.”

“We can worry about that later—look, Assassin’s on the defensive!”

So he is. Lancer has taken the battle to the warehouse rooftop, their body in silhouette. Assassin easily dwarfs them, but his fists are no match for Lancer’s speed and grace. Despite that—

—The outcome can’t be decided yet.

Gilgamesh watches carefully, noting each step and slash. This is actually entertaining, a pleasant surprise indeed. Despite the two heroes being blurs of speed and sound, Gilgamesh can still see each miss and blow.

An arrow scrapes Lancer’s face, drawing blood. Another hits their arm, making them stumble. The spear is still in their hand.

“Finally,” Assassin says proudly, but there’s an understandable undercurrent of disappointment too.

Lancer lowers their head and mutters something—perhaps an apology. They stop to pull out the arrow. It appears lodged in armor, judging by the ringing clink of shifting metal.

You fool, why are you dawdling? Escape! The idea of such a treasure like that spear vanishing so soon makes Gilgamesh seethe.

“Why bother removing it?” Assassin asks with another wheezy chuckle. “You heard before, these arrows are poisoned!”

“That’s not it,” Saber says softly.

Gilgamesh turns to look at her; she hasn’t taken her eyes off the roof. “Why is that, Saber?”

“Kiritsugu Emiya wouldn’t summon a hero susceptible to poison or magic,” she says with complete certainty. “Watch.”

Gilgamesh follows her gaze.

Assassin gets in another swing, but Lancer sidesteps it with ease. Of the two, Assassin’s the one out of breath.

Lancer’s freed the arrow; it clatters to the ground below…before bursting into ash.

Assassin doesn’t notice. He swings his fist again, breaks through the metal roof and gets stuck.

Lancer leaps onto his trembling arm, one leg in front of the other. The form isn’t half-bad. Their spear’s raised to the heavens as if to summon a storm.

Even from here, Gilgamesh can see Assassin’s unwavering grin.

“…Not bad, Lancer. Go ahead, then.”

He bares his neck to his executioner, his wild hair swaying in the night breeze. Even in his last moments, his proud bearing reminds Gilgamesh of the stories he’s heard: how Heracles once held up the Earth in Atlas’ place, in order to trick him into aiding in his Eleventh Labor.

Lancer nods, their posture serene: their spear slices Assassin’s neck like a hot knife through cheese.

So passes Assassin. This time, he died on his own terms, against a powerful foe.

Lancer bows over Assassin’s corpse, as it disperses with amber flecks of light to match the stars. Though Lancer is still in shadow, their head visibly turns toward Gilgamesh and Saber.

And if Assassin, who gave the Kings of Heroes and Knights such grief, was taken out by someone with lesser skill…

Gilgamesh and Saber look at each other. Their eyes say the same thing: We must go.

Normally, Gilgamesh would feel deeply annoyed at retreating like this—but then this Grail War has been full of surprises. Let Lancer’s mongrel of a Master consider this a victory while he can!  

Gilgamesh takes Saber’s hand and teleports away.

---

He makes a point to land as far away from the mansion as possible. He stops below the Big Bridge, as cars roll by overhead. They can watch the river’s ceaseless flowing from here, the water gleaming sapphire blue in the moonlight.

“Have your wounds healed, Saber?”

Saber glances down at her leg. “Yes, it seems so. I’m grateful Assassin didn’t use those poisoned arrows!”

Gilgamesh chuckles dryly. “How ironic—it was Hydra blood that killed Heracles in life. In death, it’s his most potent weapon.”

“Well,” Saber says, brushing her hair out of her eyes, “while that plan could have gone better, it could have gone far worse. And it did technically work, so…”

“What a pity that mongrel had to intrude,” Gilgamesh grumbles. “Lancer’s air of mystery is small compensation.”

Saber frowns in thought. “Yes, Lancer…that spear was very odd. Due to the speed of their strikes, it was hard to comprehend.”

“It’s far larger than a spear should be, that much is certain.”

Saber rests a hand on her hip, brows furrowed. “Perhaps we should lie in wait, this time, see who challenges Lancer, and if he falls. Caster, perhaps—they are no doubt the one behind the ‘gas leaks’ that have been occurring.”

“Mm. Since Waver Velvet is here, Rider will be summoned soon—do you think he could face Lancer?”

“Ha, he would certainly try!”

Gilgamesh and Saber share a quiet chuckle, as clouds obscure the moon. The night has grown cold, and if Gilgamesh can feel it in his armor, than Saber must as well.

“Do you feel a chill, Saber?”

“What? Oh, no. I’m very familiar with this weather.”

“I see…hmm?”

Gilgamesh starts when Saber reaches out for his hand—he can’t feel the warmth of her skin beneath her mail, but…

“You’re cold,” Saber says matter-of-factly, before glancing away from his gaze.

“Oh?” He grins as Saber’s cheeks flush pink at his tone. “Thank you for the assistance, unexpected as it is.”

Saber quickly recovers (much to his disappointment). “Why not? It’s merely chivalry.”

Interesting. “But then, should it not be reversed?”

Saber shakes her head. “No, because you are the King of Heroes, and I am the King of Knights.” Her eyes glint with a different light—Gilgamesh hopes it’s amusement. “Do you see, Archer?”

He looks down at her, one eyebrow raised. “Not quite. Enlighten me.”

In a burst of blue, Saber removes her gauntlet. (His little finger matches her index finger in size, it’s an endearing sight.) With exquisite care, Saber turns Gilgamesh’s hand so that the knuckles of his gauntlet face up. There’s a stiffness to her movements, as if worried he’ll paw at her like the basest of mongrels any moment.

In response, he keeps his posture as loose as possible.

She lets go of his hand anyway, as if suddenly aware of her actions. “A-Ah, forgive me, that was…unbecoming of a King. I am no mere knight!”

Gilgamesh knows an opportune moment when he sees one. “Shall I swoon and allow you to carry me back, Saber?”

Saber looks quite concerned. “That—that won’t be necessary!”

“Oh, how disappointing…”

Saber sighs. “Don’t sulk, it’s unbecoming of a King.” She turns away. “We should head back.”

Gilgamesh shrugs one shoulder and agrees. Perhaps I can conspire an excuse for an escort tomorrow.

Before they leave, however, Saber asks a question: “Archer, can you wield a sword?”

How unexpected. He recalls her practicing in the backyard today, despite not really needing to.

“I’m somewhat able to. I’m an Archer for a reason, after all.”

Saber hums in thought. “Do you wish to learn?”

Gilgamesh has a suspicion of where this is going. “How could I refuse such generosity?”

“Excellent. We shall begin training in the morning, then. Even if the ‘you’ in the Throne of Heroes forgets, hopefully I can teach you a thing or two.”

Saber glances over her shoulder at him—is there a smile on her lips? It’s hard to see. Still, Gilgamesh would like to think she is.

Perhaps this night has been worthwhile after all.

---

When they return to the mansion, it is very late. Gilgamesh barely has time to reach his bed before he falls into an exhausted sleep beside Kariya.

His dream is very strange indeed. While seeing Sakura’s memories isn’t exactly rare (and vice-versa), this one seems different from the others:

“No, Sakura, you mustn’t go that way.”

All Gilgamesh can see of Tokiomi are his knees—as expected of Sakura-vision.

“Why, Father?” Sakura asked, as Tokiomi lead her away from part of a wall; this must be the master bedroom, where her parents slept.

“The wall is very thin, there,” Tokiomi replied smoothly. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix it soon.”

The room, blurred by the glow of sunlight and the mists of time, seemed innocuous enough. But to Gilgamesh’s keen eye, the wall Tokiomi shooed Sakura away from had a slight strangeness to it, as if it were hiding something.

“Shall I call for maintenance?” Kirei’s voice droned unexpectedly, startling Sakura and thus Gilgamesh.

“…Yes, perhaps later.” Tokiomi ushered Sakura out of the bedroom and past the priest’s stone-still legs. “Come, Sakura, your mother is waiting with your things—”

—Gilgamesh wakes with disappointment sinking in his chest. While he’s pleased not to see the revolting Worm Pit again, this dream seems both uneventful and intriguing. But there’s no clear reason for why this memory is of importance. Perhaps that is as it should be; a child’s memories ideally should be simple and uneventful. Especially after what she has endured…

In his mind’s eye, Gilgamesh flashes on Aoi’s trepidation before entering her own bedroom after Saber’s summoning. It could be nothing—but in Gilgamesh’s experience, dreams tend to have untold importance.

Chapter Text

A strange guest shows up at the front door the next afternoon after Assassin’s defeat.

“Is this…Tohsaka’s house?” the black-haired man asks awkwardly, cocking his head to one side. Long strands echo his movement.

Sakura cranes her neck to look at him. The dark green waistcoat, lurking beneath the black jacket of his suit, matches his eyes. He’s definitely a Mage—and a Master, I can see his Command Seals.

“That’s right, Mister.”

He’s lanky, and his pale cheeks are slightly red from the chill air. Now they match his wool scarf. He reminds Sakura of vaguely exasperated museum guides, who secretly know where all the portals to magical worlds are hidden.

The man rubs his temples with a rasping sigh, grumbling under his breath, and then Sakura figures out who he is.

Her heart swells, and she launches herself at him with careless delight. His scarf tickles her head, but she doesn’t care.

“Waver, it’s great to see you!” she cries, her arms looped around his middle. She can hear his belly gurgling against her ear, which makes her laugh.

Waver’s body shivers as he chuckles. He pats her head with a soft, gloved hand. “Hey, it’s good to see you, too. But…” His voice wheezes out of him. “…Could you…ease up?”

Sakura lets go, guilt washing over her. “I’m sorry!”

Waver flaps a hand with a forgiving grin. “I just needed air, that’s all. My turn to apologize—I didn’t recognize you in your school uniform!”

She smiles. “Oh, I thought so.”

Rider turns corporeal in a flurry of red flecks, and stands proudly next to Waver. In his “Admirable Tactics” t-shirt and blue jeans, you’d think Rider’s just a tourist from the land of giants. All wild red hair and a rumbling, jolly voice, he could probably destroy a mountain if he laughed hard enough.

“You see, boy? I told you I knew where we were going—you just need to ask for directions on occasion!”

Waver rolls his eyes. “Sure, but not through banging on car doors and scaring drivers senseless, idiot!”

The two couldn’t look more different, but they’re clearly at ease with each other. Sakura’s quickly realizing she could sit back and watch them for ages.

…But there’s something she has to do, first.

“Um, come in!” Sakura says, practically hauling them through the door.

“Thanks,” Waver says, peering about the mansion’s entrance as soon as he steps inside. He looks impressed with what he sees.

Sakura steps back to give Waver time to put on a pair of inside shoes. “Sorry, Rider,” she says, “I don’t think we have inside shoes in your size!”

“That’s no trouble,” Rider says with a chuckle, switching to his sandals. “These will do!”

The living room door opens, and Rin steps out onto the foyer with Tohsaka elegance. Her simple red dress sways in time with her twintails as she glides over to Waver and bows from the waist.

“Welcome, Waver Velvet,” Rin says calmly. “I’m Sakura’s older sister, Rin.”

Waver grins and holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Rin. Sakura’s told me a lot about you—you’re the Tohsaka family head, right?”

Rin smiles with just a hint of teeth. “That’s right. I’m doing my best!”

Waver rests a hand on his hip, looking totally at ease. “I’m sure. Um—would you mind if we talked shop? I’d like to hear how your studies are going.”

It’s as if Waver knows exactly how to get Rin to open up. “Hm. Sure. Come sit in the living room, it’s less drafty. And you can meet Mother, too.”

Rin’s hesitant, and a little standoffish at first, but it doesn’t take long for Sakura to watch Rin happily chat away with her and Waver about what they know so far about the Grail War (and a little of Magecraft). The world around them fades away.

Dimly, she can hear Rider greeting Saber and Archer, followed by what sounds like a unexpected group hug.

“Waver,” Sakura asks, “did Miss Archisorte get back to London safely?”

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Waver says, his furrowed brows belying his words. “I expected she’d try to wander off and find you, but even then I lost track of her!” He runs agitated fingers through his hands. “God, some guardian I am. There’s going to be hell to pay when I get back!”

“I don’t know,” Rin says thoughtfully, pouring Waver another steaming cup of tea. “She may be…weird, but I think she likes you.”

“…That’s part of the problem.” Waver begins to calm down; he picks up the teacup and saucer with steady hands. “Well, at least the feeling’s mutual.”

Sakura’s surprised at how much more confident Waver is, compared to when they last saw each other at the Clock Tower. Yes, he’ll probably always be a grouch in some ways, and Reines’ running off clearly messed with him. But his whole body seems more relaxed, and he’s less likely to second-guess himself or try to mimic a cold-hearted Mage.

Sakura’s story of Assassin’s death is interrupted by Rider’s howl of misery one room over.

“Heracles was defeated—before I could arrive?!” There’s a loud thud as Rider’s knees hit the floor. “How could this happen? A family reunion, a battlefield beyond mortals, was in my grasp!”

“Yes, the two-man Olympics will be sorely missed,” Archer says dryly. “Perhaps there are other Greek heroes among our foes.”

“True, but will they be as grand? As buff?”

“Yes,” Saber states. “You prove it, Rider.”

Flattery cures Rider’s woes, apparently. His laughter causes Aoi to look up from her tea with concern. She leaps to her feet, and her cup and saucer barely make a sound.

“Please, Mr. Rider, there are antiques in this house!” Aoi cries, her hands clasped over her chest.

Rider pokes his head through the living room door, looking sheepish. “Sorry, sorry. I promise I’ll be careful—after all, you have decorated this home with care!”

Waver chuckles wryly over his tea. “He’s such a flirt, seriously…”

Aoi giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “It’s nothing, Mr. Rider, really,” she demurs.

Rider blinks in surprise. Then he grins. “A charming response from a charming woman! You really should take the compliment, though.”

Upstairs, Kariya calls down “Yeah, Aoi, you’re being praised by Iskandar the Great! Who else can say that?”

Rider gazes up at the ceiling. “Hmm, why is your uncle up there, and not joining our merriment?”

“He has work to do,” Sakura says, wondering if they’re being too loud.

“Oh, I see,” Rider says mischievously, turning and heading for the stairs. “You there, Sakura’s Uncle—by the orders of Iskandar, King of Conquerors, you are granted a reprieve!”

Sakura and Rin stare at each other in mortified delight, while Waver just leans back and sips his tea.

“You get used to it,” Waver says. “He’ll lay off if you ask sincerely, though.”

In the end, there’s less planning involved and more laid-back chatting. Sakura doesn’t mind at all.

---

Days pass uneventfully, and Sakura hates it. Some things happen: Rin finishes a history report for class, while Sakura learns a few complicated kanji. PE, as always, is the worst class ever, and Kotone gives Rin a pretty Vaporeon card.

Waver and Rider visit sometimes, but they’re largely acting on their own. (Since the Grail might not be corrupted, there’s no real need to join forces—yet.)

Aoi has her get-togethers with her friends (looks like someone got her into role-playing games), and Kariya’s still writing up a report on…something adult that Sakura doesn’t entirely get. Rin says it’s about a court case, but Archer says it’s about white-collar crime. Kariya just calls it work.

Despite all the everyday details that surround her, Sakura can’t help but send out tiny, shadowy Familiars to figure out what’s going on in the Holy Grail War, alongside what Archer and Saber tell her.

This is what she knows: Lancer’s still around, and still mysterious—even Rider hasn’t seem them anywhere. There’ve been more gas leaks, and hospitals are quickly filling up. Some people have died, turned to withered husks with glassy eyes—they couldn’t eat or drink.

In the back of her head, Sakura hopes that creepy man in black, who may be the Mage-killer she’s heard about, will strike back against whoever’s causing this mess; but it looks like he’s content to let people suffer to get what he wants.

A monster doesn’t need to help others. She knows this, intimately. And yet, it still feels wrong somehow.

---

Sakura stops in the middle of her last homework assignment for this week (math) and listens to the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of wood hitting wood. The sound is coming from her slightly ajar bedroom window. I guess Saber and Archer are practicing again.

Kariya’s unexpected cackling makes her really pay attention.

She peers out the window at the yard below. She giggles at the sight of Archer flat on the ground, breathing heavily. Saber and Archer are wearing their casual clothes, which makes Sakura frown—what if their clothes get grass stains? Well, maybe it’s fine. Kariya’s sitting on a lawn chair, laughing and applauding.

Saber holds out a hand to Archer. “Your grip was stronger, this time. You mustn’t give in just yet!”

Archer sighs, reaches out…and does something to flip Saber onto the ground before him.

“Ha! Now, we are even—ouch!”

Saber taps his head with the tip of her practice sword. It’s hard to tell what her expression is from this high up, but she doesn’t seem too angry.

Kariya manages to laugh even harder.

Archer gets to his feet, brushing bits of grass off his black pants. “And now it is your turn, Kariya.” He summons another practice sword, letting it drop right into Kariya’s lap.

“Seriously, Archer? What good will I be against a Servant?”

“None whatsoever. But against a Master…well, you could prove a useful decoy!”

Kariya grabs the practice sword and stomps over to Saber. “I’ll make you eat your words—fine, let’s go, Saber!”

Sakura sits on the windowsill and grins as Saber immediately begins drilling him as if he were just another student. She’s much nicer than Archer, so maybe Uncle Kariya will learn something too!

The training session continues until the sun sets over the trees, turning the sky a soft orange and lilac. It’s hard for Sakura to tell if Kariya’s improved or not, but it’s clear everyone had fun. I wonder if Mother saw it too?

Sakura hops off the windowsill and hastily finishes the last few math problems before going to find Aoi. There isn’t any radio noise coming from the living room, which means Aoi isn’t there…the master bedroom could be a possibility too.

With that in mind, Sakura strolls down the hall. The skirt of her school uniform she hasn’t bothered to change out of sways as she walks. She can almost see over the cherry wood banister, now, which is both cool and scary all at once—it’s a long trip down if she falls. That’s how lots of ghost stories end, so people probably do that all the time…

She pushes away such sad thoughts and focuses on looking for Aoi. She could just call for her, but she’s been told many times not to do that unless it’s an emergency—it’s “unladylike”, apparently. She figures she’ll understand one day.

When Sakura reaches the master bedroom, she stops before the varnished oak door. From the threshold, she can feel a strange chill against her feet. The window might be open. But…that doesn’t quite fit.

Tentatively, she lifts her knuckles. Rap-tap.

Silence.

“Mother?” she calls.

“…Come in, Sakura,” Aoi says, her voice strange.

The door swings open invitingly, despite the chill. The bedside lamp is on, illuminating the neat but cozy room. Tokiomi’s standing mirror is still there, hiding in the corner like a forgotten toy. The antique bookshelf is still full of Aoi’s nature books, alongside mysteries, historical novels and the new addition of game manuals. The four-poster bed is neatly made, almost as if no one’s slept in it for ages.

The window is closed, but that icy feeling remains.

“…Mother, is something wrong?” Sakura asks, her voice sounding very small.

Aoi is kneeling in a corner of the room. She’s wearing rubber gloves, and an unopened tin of varnish and a paintbrush lie beside her. But something’s made her stop working.

She’s pushed aside Tokiomi’s wardrobe—Sakura can see a hint of a ruby-red jacket peering from a crack in the door—and is staring at something with quiet intensity.

Aoi turns to look at Sakura, and her expression is uncharacteristically stern. “I want you to see this, please,” she says, her voice as gentle as always.

Sakura’s feet feel heavy as she makes her way to Aoi’s side. She remembers Tokiomi told her not to come this way, before he brought her to the Matou house. But if Mother’s able to stand there, that must mean it’s okay now…right?

She stops beside Aoi, who inches back on her knees to let Sakura have a better look. It’s a rectangle cut delicately into the whitewashed wall, about Tokiomi’s size.

It’s obvious what it is: a hidden doorway, meant in case of a fire or other disaster. Of course Father didn’t want me near here. Why show a stranger a secret? The realization makes her belly hurt.

“Do you want to go in?” Sakura asks, mostly as a distraction.

“…Maybe.” Aoi takes a slow breath. “For a long time, now, I thought that your father’s ghost was here. This room gets so cold, sometimes…but it was really this door all along. The wardrobe wasn’t pushed back far enough to keep out the draft, which makes sense.”

“It must lead to Father’s study—it’s a Mage’s secret!”

Aoi’s chuckle sounds a little sad.

They stand in silence for a moment, just looking at their find.

Finally, Aoi stands and eases the door open.

It swings on silent hinges, and the cool air assaults them. And yet, there’s no breeze. The passage is so dark it’s like peering into fogged-over swamp water.

Sakura knows what to do. She lifts her hand, and the ring on her finger. “Gib mir Licht.”

Blue light as brilliant as the moon bursts from the ring, piercing the darkness to show the stone staircase below.

The brownstone gleams wetly, as if recently polished. There’s a railing to hold onto, smooth and metallic. The steps look a little narrow, but that’s easily dealt with.

Aoi looks very pleased. “Thank you, Sakura.”

“It’s no problem!” Sakura beams before turning serious. “Now let’s see…”

Sakura leads the way, holding onto Aoi’s cool, filmy hand as they travel down the steps with care. She tries very, very hard not to think of the Worm Pit. The only reason they look alike is because of the stairs and the shadows, that’s all!

There isn’t much of note about the walls and ceiling—they’re a plain white, and for some reason there are light fixtures but no lights of any kind inside them. Sakura even spies a cobweb or two, with spiders busily spinning their fragile masterpieces above their heads.

Above Sakura’s head, the heater pipes creak and churn, and along the walls she can hear water gurgle through their own system of pipes. It feels like we’re inside a body.

Then the passage grows silent again; the change makes Sakura’s heartbeat sound as loud as hail on a tin roof. Their footsteps are much the same.

“Sakura, stop.” Aoi brings her up short. She points to something up ahead. “Can you smell that?”

Sakura sniffs the air, smells nothing but dust and says so.

Aoi’s expression softens with relief; in this light, she looks strangely ghoulish. “Perhaps it’s nothing.”

But when they take a few more steps, Sakura gets a whiff of it: stale vomit and stomach acid, the sort of bitter, harsh stench that’s impossible to clean off stone.

As she turns away from the stomach-churning smell, the light of her ring catches on something that makes her heart lurch and her skin crawl.

“Oh, Mother, don’t look,” she whispers, but by then it’s too late.

The gauges in the plaster are deep and uneven, stopping abruptly by the railing. There are five in all, the size of a human hand. In this light, they look inked in by shadows and rust. Here, the paint job is more obvious, big thick smears that wind up emphasizing the scratches instead of hiding them.

“Th-that’s…!” Sakura hates the tremble in her voice. “Those markings aren’t from Berserker, they’re too small…”

“These aren’t new,” Aoi says softly. “But they aren’t that old, either. You’d need a lot of force to dig through plaster like this.”

Sakura looks up at Aoi, at her eyes glazed over in thought. It never occurred to her that her mother would know about such things. Which is silly, it’s not like she cleans and cooks all the time.

“Sakura, bring your light closer, will you please? I want to check something.”

Despite her wariness, Sakura obeys, the ring’s light trembling along with her hands. Aoi tugs at her rubber gloves, as if testing she’s still wearing them, before running the tips of her fingers very, very gently over the scratches.

“Mother,” Sakura whispers, suddenly very aware of how far away the door is, “should you be touching that?”

“Normally, no,” Aoi replies, as her tracing fingers hiss against the plaster. “But I have gloves on, so it’s fine.”

Sakura stares in silence as Aoi’s fingers continue their search.  

“Yes, these aren’t carpenter ant tunnels, either…the wood is too deeply buried, I think. The marks are definitely from a person, and—ah!”

Aoi flinches; she’s bumped against something buried in the smallest scrape. Just as she reacts, the “something” dislodges and drops into her hand. It’s been seeped in paint, but it’s obvious what it is.

—A sliver of a fingernail.

It shouldn’t be surprising, and yet somehow it is. In the thick, soupy darkness, someone scrabbled for the railing. Their fingers clawed at the plaster, drawing blood, before finally grabbing metal.

Sakura’s hand brushes the railing, touching something crusty and brittle; she flinches and pulls back. “S-Someone cleaned the railing, Mother. I think it had blood on it.”

Once the person found the railing, they couldn’t hold it in, and were sick all over the stairs. For the smell to linger like this, it either must have been a lot, or the person puked farther down, too.

She doesn’t want to think of it, but…  

…Sakura’s mind flashes to Tokiomi, broken and wretched like a tin soldier tossed into a fire. When he showed up to fight Caster at the pier, he didn’t have a car that she could see, he had his vomit-crusted suit and his ruby-tipped cane to support his injured leg and—and—

“Sakura?”

The world’s blurred. Her eyes are itchy and hot.

Her fear spirals out of control and bursts free.

“It’s okay, Mother,” Sakura says, her voice almost a shriek, “it’s okay, it’s okay, because this happens with Berserkers, they make you forget things and get lost sometimes but Father’s smart and he had Kirei, Kirei helped him and brought him back upstairs where it’s warm—”

Aoi places warm, steady hands on Sakura’s shoulders. The familiar, gentle touch begins to calm her nerves. Aoi turns Sakura to face her, and Sakura can’t do anything but wrap her arms around her mother’s middle and sob from deep in her chest.

“He…he gave me away, but…Father must have been so scared!”

“Oh, Sakura.” Aoi lifts a hand and runs fingers through Sakura’s hair. Aoi’s fingers jolt slightly with Sakura’s every shaking sob. “No, it’s not like that at all. Your father’s Servant might have looked scary, but he wasn’t a Berserker.”

Her voice is so sweet, kind and earnest that it takes a moment for those words to click. When they do, Sakura lifts her heavy head and stares up at Aoi in confusion.

“What”—she sniffles—“what do you mean, Mother?”

“I mean just that,” Aoi says serenely. “I have it on good authority that your father summoned—what are they called again? One of the ‘knight classes’?”

…Something’s very wrong.

Sakura shakes her head and tries to ignore the dizziness that she feels. “No, that’s not right. Ask Archer or Saber, they know he summoned Berserker!”

Aoi stares at her with a look of growing confusion. Then her expression turns steely, a little like Rin’s when there’s a puzzle to solve.

“You know what, Sakura? That’s a great idea.”

---

As soon as Sakura and Aoi tell their story, Archer follows Sakura into the passage. (Aoi stays behind, wanting to learn about Servant classes from Rin and Saber.)

While the passage feels more cramped, Sakura finds that Archer remains a comforting presence at her side. Like a piece of the sun, his body radiates heat that combats the eerie chill around them. The light from her ring makes his shadow loom protectively over hers. I almost wish he’d wear his armor, to make it less quiet in here.

There hasn’t been any conversation yet, either. She can tell that Archer’s taking stock of this place—and finds it lacking. A disdainful huff of breath proves her right.

“This dismal place is unfit for you or I,” Archer grumbles. “Nor for your mother, for that matter.” He sniffs the air and wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Is that vomit?”

“It just smells like it,” Sakura says hastily, not wanting him to stomp back upstairs so soon. “Whoever was here last, probably Kirei, cleaned it up!”

“If so, he made dismal work of it. What possessed you two to come down here?”

“It’s been making Mother’s bedroom chilly,” Sakura explains. She’s aware that it’s a flimsy reason, but it’s the truth.

“Is that so?” Archer’s bored drawl cuts through the tension still coiling in Sakura’s belly. “Well, I suppose that merits an expedition. Now, where are the markings?”

“Here,” Sakura says, stopping one step above so that Archer has a full view.

He leans forward curiously, his gold bracelets looking silver in the ring’s light. Like Aoi, he slowly runs his fingers across the scratches; unlike Aoi, he doesn’t need much time to do so. He mutters something about blood, rubbing his fingers together.

“What do you think?” Sakura asks, shifting her weight.

“Hmm…well, your mother’s correct, there are no wretches lurking in the dark recesses of this place.” He flicks his fingers, and rusty specks fall to the steps. “But I suspect that your theory has some merit as well. Alas, there is only one way to know for certain.” He gestures lazily to the darkness up ahead. “Shall we?”

Sakura frowns. “Um…okay. It’s fine, since you’re with me, Archer!”

“I shall accept your praise, as is my due. My Master is both wise and brave!” Archer sounds downright pleased.

Sakura glances away, embarrassment tingling her cheeks. “C-Come on, let’s go.”

The shadows are deceiving: it doesn’t take long to reach the staircase’s bottom. The cobblestone floor is a little uneven, but it doesn’t take long for Sakura to get used to it.

“It’s warmer down here,” she says, turning in that direction. “Oh! That’s why.”

There’s a door identical to the one up above, with soft orange light shining through the threshold. Archer pushes it open for her with one effortless hand.

“And here we are, in the study once more,” he says, leisurely stepping over the threshold. He doesn’t seem happy to be here, for some reason.

Sakura wants to ask him why, but there are more important things to do. “So, now that we know where that door goes—Father must have gotten lost down here after he summoned Berserker!”

Archer stares at the door, his eyes glazed over in thought. “Hmm…perhaps, perhaps not. He was certainly here. But for how long, I cannot say.”

Sakura doesn’t want to, but she asks “Should we ask Kirei about this?”

Archer’s chuckle lacks humor. “Not yet. With the information we have, voicing suspicions about his character will only make him more suspicious.”

“Um…I don’t get it.”

“In short, Kirei and his father may get offended—and we need their neutral aid. Why risk losing that?”

“Oh. Okay, you’re right. We’ll just keep it in mind, right?”

“Most certainly. It is no mere accident that we found this little secret.” Archer’s brows furrow. “Indeed, I would consider this a little…too convenient. It’s simultaneously a neatly-wrapped solution, and carrying many dangling threads.”

Sakura leans forward expectantly. It feels as though it’s been ages since they had a chat like this.

“How so, Archer?”

Archer begins pacing around the large table in the center of the study, hands on his hips. “A few nights ago, I had a memory-dream about the secret door upstairs. It seemed to have no purpose whatsoever…and yet, here we are, having uncovered a potential reason.” He looks to Sakura, head cocked to one side. “But why should the Grail care about such things?”

Sakura frowns and shifts her weight. “That’s a good point. Hmm…” She hits upon an idea. “…Maybe the Grail’s running out of memories to show you?”

Archer pauses for a moment and laughs. “That’s quite possible; perhaps tonight, I will bear witness to those ‘Physical Education’ classes you so loathe!”

Sakura giggles in return. “You’d probably like it, there’s lots of exercising.”

“Yes, but I’m well-versed in such matters.” Archer clears his throat. “At any rate, it is worth remembering how this came about: as the Grail is ‘omnipotent’, it must have a reason for why it gave us this opportunity.”

“So in other words, we should keep tabs on our dreams, like before?”

Archer grins. “Precisely. Now, if I recall correctly, dinner is almost here. We should return upstairs and eat our fill. Mysteries are best solved on a full stomach, after all.”

Sakura sees no problem with that, and grins back. As they head back upstairs—through the regular staircase, this time—she wonders if, perhaps, she and Rin should do some scouting of their own. It’d be difficult, since we’re in school, but it’s not fair that Archer and Saber get to have all the fun!

As they reach the top of the stairs, Archer slides in front of her and blocks the way, bracing his arms on the doorframe with deceptive casualness.

“What an impressive scowl,” Archer says with a chuckle. He shifts this way and that when Sakura tries to sneak past him. “Now, now, why so hasty?”

“Move, please,” Sakura grumbles.

“I will…once you have answered my question.”

“Okay.” She tries to look like the most obedient girl in the world, not the sort who’s planning something sneaky. “What is it?”

“Are you weary of not joining Saber and I in our nightly reconnaissance?”

“Yes!” she says, out of sheer surprise.

Archer steps back to let her pass in one fluid motion. “As I suspected. Hmm…tomorrow is a Sunday. Let us remedy your troubles a little.”

“How?” Sakura asks, as Gilgamesh strolls over to the kitchen.

He grins at her over his shoulder. “Consider it a surprise.”

---

But surprises aren’t good enough for Sakura and Rin; they sneak out as soon as Saber and Archer leave for another excursion. None of the mansion’s lights are on when Rin quietly opens the front door and Sakura closes it.

The grass is already growing dewy, tickling Sakura’s legs beneath her socks. She steps slowly with the heel of her shoe, trying not to make a sound.

Rin grunts in disgust. “Gross,” she whispers, plucking at her long black socks. “They’re wet…”

Sakura hastily shushes her and points to the mansion. Rin gets the hint.

There are many ways to leave the Tohsaka mansion—there’s a wrought-iron garden gate in the back perfect for times like this. The cool metal opens soundlessly at Sakura’s push, but she still watches for any lights from the mansion. Nothing happens, the coast is clear.

Armed with their best gems and Rin’s mana compass, Sakura leads the way while Rin guards the rear. (Her aim is better.)

The night is cold, but the air has a strange sweetness to it, gentle and welcoming. Sakura takes a deep, bracing breath, and it energizes her down to her toes. Maybe this was a good idea after all…

“Okay,” Rin whispers, as they creep down the silent street. “Let’s remember the plan.”

Sakura nods. “We go to the Church, and ask Kirei about that secret door. Then we go home.”

Rin shakes her head. “No, we ask Kirei to take us home, remember?”

“Hmm…okay. I don’t think he’ll do it, though.” Sakura worries at her lip.

“He will,” Rin says confidently, her hands on her hips. “Trust me, he won’t have a choice!”

Unfortunately, it quickly becomes clear that the two of them underestimated just how far away the Church is.

Fuyuki is different at night, a dreary place with only sparse red streetlamps to light the way. The city is drenched in shades of blue, which only makes the night feel colder. Dragon caves are cheerier than this. Or a whole street full of haunted houses! Every step Sakura takes seems as loud as a falling tree.

No matter how quietly she tries to move, it’s always obvious that someone’s walking the streets at night. Rin has the same problem.

“Is your compass picking up anything?” Sakura asks Rin—they’re able to walk side-by-side now.

“…Sort of.” Rin shows her the wildly spinning needle. “It’s not picking up Servants—it’d be sparking if it did.” She frowns. “I think its sensing Masters.”

“Maybe we should look for them instead? The Church seems awfully far away.”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Despite these setbacks, Sakura can’t help but shiver with excitement—it feels as if the whole world has opened up before her, with all the danger and beauty that entails.

“This is much more fun than letting Archer and Saber do all the work,” Sakura whispers to Rin with a smile. “Don’t you think?”

Rin smiles back. “Right. As Masters, we can’t just sit back and do nothing—this is our war too!”

They make it to their favorite park before they need to take a rest and think things through. (It helps that the towering lamp turns on invitingly as soon as they step on the grass.) The gazebo is a comforting sight, particularly with the combination of moonlight and yellow lamplight shining down on the green roof.

Sakura sits on the gazebo’s bench, resting her aching feet. Rin doesn’t seem bothered, instead content to stand guard.

“At least it’s peaceful here,” Sakura says, just to talk.

“Mm. We should’ve done this earlier.” Rin’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Didn’t Archer say he got in trouble all the time as a kid?”

Sakura giggles. “Yeah, he snuck down to the market and learned how to haggle!”

“D’you really think he did that, though? I mean, he was still a King…”

“Yeah, but the teachers were really boring sometimes, just like for us.”

The conversation peters off. Once again, Sakura becomes aware of the crickets beginning to chirp, and how she and Rin are the only people here. Maybe the gas leaks are to blame—I feel like there’re normally more cars out this time of night.

Rin lifts her mana compass from around her neck and watches the needle spin and spin.

“Still nothing, huh?”

“Yep.”

Sakura lets her mind wander, thinking of what Waver and Rider are doing right now. I wonder if Rider figured out how that game system works yet…would Waver be able to play it, since he’s a Mage? Thinking of them only makes her wish she’d thought this plan through better. We could use the company.

Rin’s posture stiffens suddenly. The compass is making a creepy clicking noise.

“Sakura, hide!” she hisses, and Sakura scrambles under the bench with her—the only available place.

Sakura lies on her side and curls her legs in. She hears Rin get into a similar position.

Finally, there are footsteps coming this way. They’re barely audible, but Sakura can sense a skipping rhythm. One-two, skip, one-two, and repeat. It sounds like they’re stepping over cracks in the sidewalk. The person’s coming from the opposite direction Rin and Sakura took to get here.

The wood is cold and clammy against Sakura’s hands and cheek; it feels like her heartbeat is pounding loud enough to be heard for miles.

The person enters the park; the grass hisses as they move. As Sakura listens, she tries to get a sense of who the person is—are they a kid, an adult?

As the person stops a short distance from the bench, Sakura finally gets a glimpse of them. It’s an adult, judging by the leather shoes and long, black-clad legs. But that could be anybody. What if it’s Waver? I need a better look!

Sakura looks at Rin, whose eyes keep flicking from her compass to the stranger. Judging by her clenched jaw and furrowed brow, this is the cause of the compass’ reaction. So they’re a Mage, then…or maybe a Master.

Then the stranger reaches into their pocket and pulls out a lighter. There’s a metallic flick, and the bitter smell of nicotine mars the sweet night air.

Sakura’s breath hitches, and she claps a hand over her mouth. It’s a coincidence, don’t panic, don’t panic…!

The sound of a deep, slow exhale shouldn’t make her feel like her skin’s going to crawl off her bones. But it only reminds her of the first time she saw that man-shaped monster. He didn’t even deny he was a monster, that’s how comfortable he is with his nature.

It feels like the stranger (who she hopes isn’t who she thinks he is) smokes that cigarette for a thousand years. Her legs are beginning to cramp, and all she can think of is the Hyatt. Her stomach coils and burns with tension.

He smoked a cigarette like it was nothing before blowing up a building, a trap that was meant for Miss Sola-Ui and Sakura. Was he this calm when he used a Command Seal on Saber? And what’ll he do if he sees us?

Rin reaches out a comforting hand to her—

“—I know you’re there,” the Mage-killer says, his voice cold. It would be a pleasant baritone, like Archer’s or Tokiomi’s, if not for that emotionless inflection. “Come out, where I can see you.”

He tosses the cigarette to the ground and stamps it out. He’s done being patient.

Sakura can’t move. Her whole body feels like it’s underwater, and her throat and chest spasm each time she tries to breathe.

Rin’s in much better shape: she crawls out from under the bench, and there’s the sound of dust and dirt being brushed off clothes.

“…Huh.” The Mage-killer lets out a breath of amusement. “And here I thought Kirei Kotomine had finally caught up to me.”

“You’re a Mage,” Rin says calmly, “but you aren’t a Master. I can tell.”

“You’re right.” The Mage-killer almost sounds amused. “Hey, Archer’s Master, come out and take a seat by your sister.”

Sakura’s mind screams at her not to do it, but she climbs out on unsteady legs and sits on the bench. She forces herself to look at the Mage-killer without flinching.

He’s not that different from when she last saw him: he still looks like a raven with his black trench coat and suit, as if he’s looking for a tombstone to perch on. His black, fluffy hair is still at odds with the pale leanness of the rest of him. Now she can say he looks like a scruffy action hero, the kind who can crash through windows without getting cut by glass shards.

She can’t look into his eyes, no matter how impolite it is. She knows what she’ll find there.

“You caused me a great deal of trouble, you know,” the Mage-killer says, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Because of your wild theory, this Grail War had to be put on hold, and I lost Saber, my trump card.”

Rin clenches her fists. “You put a Command Seal on Saber, of course you did!”

The Mage-killer only shrugs. “Command Seals aren’t just fancy tattoos, you know. You’ll have to use them someday. Oh, and here’s another problem you gave me: You set Kirei Kotomine on my trail. I’ve used all my passports and visas to keep one step ahead of him.”

“Well, anyway, our plan worked, and the Grail’s fine,” Sakura snaps, watching for any sudden movements. “It’s no different from blowing up a building!”

“…Heh. Wow, I can’t believe you’re still focused on that. You truly are the heroic type.” He sighs and cracks his neck. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance—looks like I’m getting a little soft.”

Sakura slips her hand in her pocket; her gems are hot and sweaty against her palm. It won’t be that easy to kill us!

He bares his teeth in a grin. “So, you going to smite evil head-on, like a heroine should?”

Something about his snide words makes her consider them. She wants to do that, yes—she would rest easy tonight knowing she’d made him pay for Saber’s previous fate. But—it’s as if he expects an attack. He’s just…mocking her. Forcing her to react.

“Let’s do it, Sakura,” Rin growls, but Sakura holds her back.

“Wait, I’ve changed my mind,” Sakura says, jabbing a finger at the Mage-killer. “You’re not just a monster. You’re a evil old troll, too!”

The Mage-killer stares at her as if in a daze. “You really are similar to her…” he mutters to himself. Then he speaks normally “You know, just calling me names isn’t going to do much.”

“I know that!” Sakura can’t help it—somehow, his stating the obvious only makes her blood boil. “But I’m not stupid enough to try and fight you!”

“Fine, then.” There’s a leathery sound as the Mage-killer removes a handgun from its holster. With a steady hand, he aims it at Rin’s head.

In that span of time, Sakura’s already holding and throwing a diamond. “Stören!”

The Mage-killer’s shot only hastens the reaction. Molten shards rain down. Unfortunately they miss him.

In that time, Sakura’s already got a blood-red fire agate ready. “Brilliante Mark!”

Rin’s voice echoes her. Now the Mage-killer is ensnared in fire. He’s claiming that they’re idiots, but he’s the one who—

—Sakura’s heart lurches in her chest. Somehow he’s put the flames out in seconds. And in a blur of shadow he’s right in front of her.

She has no time to react: his knee thuds into her belly, and her whole body spasms as she coughs. Sakura stumbles back. Through blurry eyes, she sees Rin running toward her.

A gem, I need a gem! But she’s in too much pain. She feels Rin’s body in front of her, shielding her. We’re going to get shot, we’re going to get shot! Her train of thought replays uselessly.

She stares up at the Mage-killer, at his blank expression and the muzzle of his gun. Please, don’t hurt my sister, she wants to say, but a series of coughs burst out instead.

There isn’t a bang.

There’s a crunch.

Sakura doesn’t understand, at first, who’s crushed the Mage-killer’s gun into black shards. Nor does she understand why the Mage-killer’s clutching his chest with a pained gasp.

There’s a blur of motion that she can’t parse. Then the Mage-killer drops to the ground like a sack of rocks, unconscious.

“Kirei…?” Rin mutters, still shielding Sakura.

“Are you two alright?” Kirei asks, his brows furrowed with something like concern.

“Belly hurts,” Sakura wheezes, pointing to where it’s throbbing.

“I see. Let me take a look,” Kirei says, and Rin obediently steps aside.

Sakura keeps her eyes firmly on the Mage-killer as Kirei gets to work. She’s not used to watching Kirei’s fingers turn see-through, to slide through her skin and search for the wound. It’s a strange feeling, having icy fingers poking around in her belly. He’s gentle about it, barely even a tickle, but it still makes her uneasy.

“What will your mother think?” Kirei’s words are almost inaudible, but Sakura hears them plain and clear. “A bad apple spoils the bunch, you know.”

It’s been on Sakura’s mind, but Kirei’s words bring it to the forefront. She’s been trying her best to be good, worthy of the Tohsaka name. But she couldn’t help it, she wanted to fight, like she couldn’t in the last Grail War…

It feels like her heart’s going to sink into her belly. “I—I didn’t—”

“Relax,” Kirei drones. “With your stomach clenched like that, I might miss something.”

“Sorry, I’m trying!”

Rin paces around the Mage-killer’s prone body, looking ready to kick him if he wakes up.

Sakura winces as a lukewarm glow fills her body; Kirei’s found something worth healing.

“It’s not life-threatening,” Kirei assures her.

“Kirei, were you hunting this guy?” Rin asks.

“Yes. His name is Kiritsugu Emiya.”

Sakura mouths the name, finding it almost beautiful—and a little cruel and sad, too. She doesn’t like him enough to call him anything other than “the Mage-killer”, though.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Once again, he’s an ally of the Einzbern Master. But he has his own plans for the Grail…plans which the Church can’t abide.” He sounds like someone wound a key behind his back to make him speak.

“I’m surprised Emiya gave you a chase,” Rin says with a hint of smugness.

Kirei chuckles. “He’s a worthy opponent. I’ll be bringing him back to the Church with me, if you don’t mind.”

Sakura frowns at him. “It’s fine,” she says, not responding to the veiled sarcasm.

Inside Sakura’s belly, something is cooled, smoothed over. She can breathe easier now.

Kirei’s hand pulls away, with a strange sucking feeling in Sakura’s belly. He nods in satisfaction.

“That should do it,” he says, resting his hands on his knees. “You did well.”

“…Thanks, Kirei.”

Kirei raises himself to his full height. “It’s no trouble at all. Now, I’ll bring you home—”

“—No thank you, Kirei,” Sakura says, before Rin can reply. She doesn’t want to be near him anymore. “You have to bring the Mage-killer to the Church, right?”

Kirei stares down at her unblinkingly. His eyes are a rich brown, but it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling. They’re sort of like Emiya’s that way.

“Hm. Very well.” Kirei glances up at the sky, as if sensing something. “You’d better hurry; your Servants will be returning soon.” There’s a hint of amusement to his tone.

Rin nods. “Let’s go, Sakura!”

Sakura doesn’t bother looking back as she and Rin break into a run, the moon watching over them like a lidless eye.

Sakura’s mind replays Kirei’s words, “What will your mother think?”, alongside one of Zouken’s insults that seemed so trivial back then:

“Your loyalty to those who abandoned you is more wretched than admirable.”

They repeat in her head, over and over. With each step she takes toward the Tohsaka mansion, Sakura finds herself wondering yet again if she’s truly welcome there. And what will Archer think of this? What if he gets mad at me?

Rin stops and looks at her with open concern. “Hey, Sakura, is something wrong?”

Sakura forces herself to smile and shake her head.

---

They sneak in through the back gate, and for a moment Sakura has a glimmer of hope. Maybe we ahead of them!

—But then.

Just as Rin locks the gate behind her, a familiar silver shape stands before Sakura. It's obvious from Saber's stance and disappointed expression that she isn't here to congratulate them. 

Saber turns slightly and points to somewhere in the distance. “Archer is waiting for you in the garden, Sakura. Not you, Rin—you stay with me.”

Sakura looks to the garden then back at Saber, the weight of what’s happening bearing down on her. She stares up at Saber’s stern frown and wants to sink into the ground, and never come out.

“He will not harm you.” Saber’s voice holds a trace of gentleness. “But he is very displeased.” She pauses, as if remembering something. “In situations like this, it’s best to face them now, rather than hide.”

“…Okay, I’ll try.”

Sakura creeps toward the garden, indescribable emotions tickling at her heels.

Chapter Text

Gilgamesh paces through the garden, fighting to remain calm. I should have expected this predicament; it was bound to happen at some point. Arguments between siblings are natural, as are disagreements between King and vassal. But acting behind the King’s back, without his permission? Unacceptable!

He’s still in his armor, and he doesn’t care how much noise it makes. He’s in no mood to be polite.

He and Saber returned an hour ago to find that their Masters had gone. After scouring the city, Gilgamesh bore witness to that mongrel Mage-killer being carried off by Kirei, heading in the opposite direction of the girls.

The situation is clear: Rin and Sakura had both wandered into a murderer’s path, without requesting their Servants’ backup, and only through mere coincidence did they make it out alive. Damn it, damn it all! Did we not have an accord, Sakura?!

Gilgamesh takes slow, even breaths, willing his body to stop shaking with useless rage so that he can deal with Sakura properly.

He’s never needed to say this aloud, or voice it in his thoughts. It’s something he decided back when they first met: Sakura’s time with Zouken and his worm brethren meant that she required a firm but gentle King. And it works well, as evidenced by their success in the Fourth War.

But now, her impulsive actions merit swift punishment. In Uruk, most parents swore by caning—but Gilgamesh can vouch for its ineffectiveness in the long term. It merely taught him how to protect his back (-side). He needs something that will get the point across, but not traumatize her—she’s had more than enough of that in the past.

There’s a rustle of grass. “…Archer…?” Sakura’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Well, I shall improvise after all…how unfortunate.

He doesn’t bother turning around. “Saber and I returned here an hour ago, only to find you missing.” He pauses, to let his words sink in. “What was your goal, tonight?”

Sakura murmurs “Well, Rin and I wanted to—to ask Kirei about that secret passage.”

He barely manages to keep his voice level. “After I explicitly told you otherwise?”

“That wasn’t all we—”

“—Saber is scolding your sister at this very moment. I am speaking of you, Sakura Tohsaka. You convinced your sister that a nighttime excursion was a wise decision. You ignored my counsel. Most importantly of all, it was you who willfully faced an opponent leagues out of your depth—and had that priest not been there…”

“But,” Sakura pipes up desperately, “I was going to ask you for help, Archer!”

Those words fray his temper like a match tossed into a storehouse of lumber. Then why did you hesitate? Gilgamesh glares at her over his shoulder and says nothing. What foolishness will you say next, I wonder?

Sakura seems to notice his displeasure, and hastily says “I wanted to leave, so did Rin, but what if the Mage-killer chased us here? A-And since you’ve been doing all the work, Archer, I wanted to help too! So I…” She stares down at the ground, digging her fingers into the hem of her green skirt. “…I’m really sorry!”

Gilgamesh laughs under his breath. “Oh, are you now? And would you have felt the same had your excursion succeeded?”

“Of course!” It sounds surprisingly genuine. “I don’t want to be a bad girl, Archer!”

“Hm. ‘A bad girl’, you say.” Gilgamesh finally turns around to get a proper look at her.

Sakura is staring at the ground, her hair obscuring her eyes. Her knees are smeared with grass stains, but she appears unharmed; that is small compensation.

“Sakura, raise your head and look upon me.”

Sakura slowly brings up her head to try and look him in the eye; the very act makes her gaze flick about like a frightened calf.

…That is not normal. Even for a child.

Certainly, mongrels and vassals in the past have been brought low by his anger. But Sakura looks like she’s waiting for him to dismember her, or worse. She should know better than to expect such things.

“Sakura,” he says, as gently but firmly as he can. “What troubles you so?”

Tears trickle down Sakura’s cheeks, glinting in the moonlight. She wipes them away with more force than necessary.

Gilgamesh sighs. “On my word as King, I will not mock you for it.”

Despite the tears running down her face, dripping into her shirt, Sakura’s voice is wooden and distant. “M-Mother will…send me away.”

The words are simple and straightforward, as miserable thoughts often are.

Even then, all Gilgamesh can say in response is “…What?”

Sakura’s “giggle” is an ugly, hitching thing, more of a hacking sound than anything expressing amusement. “Well, Father and—and Mother sent me away last time. And I’m still a spare, right? So it’s only natural…”

Everything’s beginning to make sense now. Gilgamesh growls “It’s assuredly not. Have you believed that all this time?”

Sakura gives him a watery smile. “I guess…I’m really stupid, huh…?”

It would be exceedingly easy to order her not to think that way, but of course that isn’t how this situation works. Letting Sakura free her emotions through her tears is one way to solve this issue.

Still…

She’s bought into Mage culture’s coldness once again.

He’s fought hard to stamp that nonsense out of her, but it’s a stubborn parasite. I’ve been too lax, even by my own standards.

Once Sakura begins running out of tears to shed, Gilgamesh gives her an answer.

“I would not stay by your side if I found you foolish. And your family would agree.”

Sakura looks at him despairingly. “S-So, then…I’ve been worried for nothing?”

“Oh, not at all. In fact, not expecting this was my folly.” Gilgamesh sighs and runs agitated fingers through his hair. “Allow me to amend this—who put such ideas in your head?”

“Um, I guess Zouken started it,” Sakura says, wiping her eyes. “But I’ve taken care of him.” She sounds proud of her accomplishment, as she should.

One other option remains.

“Kirei scolded you earlier, I take it?”

“Yeah, Rin didn’t hear him, though. He asked me ‘what Mother would think’ about my plan.”

Gilgamesh narrows his eyes. “I see.”

Sakura folds her arms over her chest and scowls. “I still don’t trust him; he didn’t even seem all that sad at Father’s funeral!”

“That would require him to emote—a Herculean task for a man like that.”

“That’s not the point—Kirei’s obviously hiding something!”

Gilgamesh chuckles. “Well, he most certainly is now. But we can leave that murderous mongrel in black at the Church, for the moment. If he isn’t a Master this time, then perhaps another Einzbern is. That narrows things down a little.”

“…Yeah.”

Silence stretches between them, emphasizing their distance despite being so close. Crickets chirp around them, blissfully ignorant. In the distance, Gilgamesh can hear Saber still lecturing Rin; it seems to be going well.

“Archer,” Sakura says, sounding very tired, “you’re going to punish me, right?”

Gilgamesh considers his response carefully. Now, he has an idea of what to do.

“Yes, but you needn’t fret about my harming you. I am greatly discouraged with your actions—they were most imprudent—and I wish to avoid repeating a near-disaster like tonight.” He looks down his nose at her. “What would you consider a worthy punishment, Sakura?”

She’s surprised that the choice falls to her. She fumbles endearingly for a moment, looking more like her usual self. He’s reminded of just why he’s deigned to spend this long by Sakura’s side—she has learned quickly, but she’s still lacking in certain respects. For one, her confidence waxes and wanes like the moon.

She comes to an answer soon enough: “Well, I think you shouldn’t show me that surprise tomorrow.”

Gilgamesh nods in approval. “Yes, that will suffice.”

“Um…Archer? Can I ask something?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You may. Speak.”

Sakura looks up at him shyly. “What was the surprise?”

He chuckles; it’s a welcome reprieve. “Would that not defeat the point? I shall decline to comment.”

“Humph! That’s mean, Archer.” Her pout is interrupted by a yawn so large it nearly knocks her off her feet.

“Yes, positively cruel! Yet it is necessary. By tomorrow, we will both be in better spirits—so off to bed with you.”

Sakura manages to nod before shuffling around the corner, toward the door. He keeps an eye on her in case she falls asleep on her feet, but thankfully she makes to her bedroom without incident.

It appears Saber has to carry Rin to bed, which was bound to happen eventually. I should hope Rin accepted her punishment without much fuss. I wonder what Saber chose…well, a lecture from the King of Knights must be quite potent.

Gilgamesh finally removes his armor and stretches his stiff muscles. As he and Saber once again found nothing of note tonight, they’ve had plenty of time to chat about that mysterious Lancer. One thing is obvious: with that much power, only an Einzbern’s connection to the Grail could keep a Hero like that tethered to this world.

And in that case, Lancer’s inactivity makes sense: every action means that the Einzbern Master is compromised, especially as the War goes on. Perhaps Lancer holds some sentiment for their Master, as well? That could be exploitable…

Gilgamesh teleports to his room, expecting to find Kariya there, fast asleep in bed.

In a manner of speaking, he is—he’s fallen asleep at his desk, his white-collar crime article finally finished. His head’s narrowly missed the typewriter, and his fingers still twitch every so often at invisible keys. The single lamplight casts a warm glow to his pale face, and his fluttering eyelashes. What a foolish mongrel—have you forgotten where pajamas are meant to be worn? And these are the footed pair your precious Aoi bought for you on Christmas, as well!

Gilgamesh reaches out a hand to rouse Kariya, but for once he’s deep in slumber. With more care than Kariya probably deserves, Gilgamesh scoops him up and places him in bed. In this light, the wispy clouds on his pajamas look like smoke.

Kariya twitches awake despite Gilgamesh’s efforts. “Mmn…whassamatter?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Gilgamesh says, not feeling terribly tired right now. “Rest, mongrel.”

Kariya mumbles and falls back asleep in an instant.

Gilgamesh walks back over to the desk, switches off the light, and stares out the window in silence. The moon is covered in clouds, and in the darkness the peaceful yard teems with shadows.

---

The next morning, it’s decided that the mysterious passage deserves further investigation.

“As it happens,” Saber says, as she, Sakura and Gilgamesh navigate the winding passage staircase, “I have had my own suspicions since I first met Tokiomi Tohsaka last time. Of course, I had no proof, merely guesswork.”

Saber lifts the electric lamp a little higher, to show the stairs below in snow-pale light. In this light, her hair looks almost silver.

“Good, I’m not the only one,” Sakura says, her shoes shuffling on the steps. “What’re your guess’, Saber?”

“First of all: there was no car for your father to drive to Mion River. Despite his injuries, he walked on foot. Sakura, you mentioned this too—that is what caused me to investigate.”

Gilgamesh grins proudly at Sakura, who in turn looks very humbled.

Saber suddenly takes the stairs two at a time, arriving at the area with lingering vomit-smell. “Secondly: despite Aoi claiming Kirei Kotomine was with his teacher, your father had plainly been wearing those vomit-crusted clothes for days, if not weeks!”

Sakura nods, looking downcast.

Gilgamesh follows the light until he stands one step below Saber and Sakura. “That could have been a…recent addition. He certainly appeared ready to void his stomach when we saw him.”

“Perhaps. However…” Here Saber continues the rest of the way down, the lantern swinging and bouncing in her hand. “…I now have a third, and most important, piece of information: Aoi was informed of her husband’s Servant by Kirei Kotomine. She and Rin had already left for Aoi’s parents’ house before the summoning could begin.”

Gilgamesh nods in understanding. “And since all signs point to him, he’s quite obviously aiming for something.”

He decides to jump down beside Saber, landing with a light tap on the stone floor.

Sakura skitters down the stairs, her hand whispering on the plaster wall. “Ah, please wait!”

Gilgamesh holds out a placating hand. “You needn’t rush, Sakura. I assure you, we will still be here.”

Reluctantly, Sakura slows down. After a few moments, her hand finds his fingers in the darkness, and he leads her down the rest of the way.

Saber’s shadow quivers on the wall as she holds the lantern out in front of her, searching for the door to the study. Her steps echo in the stillness. Gilgamesh can hear her fingers probing for a latch, or hinges. It occurs to him, as Saber’s light moves a little further away, that the darkness of this dismal place completely obscures any extra doors that may be hidden here.

“Ah-ha,” Saber murmurs, and she crouches, taking the lantern with her. “Archer, Sakura, come and look.”

Sakura eagerly does so; on the wall, her shadow slants to the left.

Gilgamesh strolls over, of the strong opinion that the sooner they discover a clue, the sooner they can leave this miserable place. He bends down and peers over Saber’s shoulder.

“Well, what is it?” His voice comes out a little sharper than intended.

Saber doesn’t seem to mind. “A loose stone.” She digs her fingers into the sides of the brick. An abrasive scrape fills the air. “Let me just…carefully…remove it.”

She lifts it with ease and sets it down with a clunk. In the lantern light, Gilgamesh can see a crumpled up piece of parchment nestled in the hole where the brick once lay. He lets Saber rest her hands and picks it up himself, unfolding it gingerly. He wrinkles his nose in disgust at the dried blood and grease that dot the parchment, but the words are still legible.

He smirks at the handwriting. “Unfortunately, I have seen the inside of that dull study enough times to know: this is that mongrel’s penmanship.”

“Hey,” grumbles Sakura, though she doesn’t seem too offended.

Gilgamesh opts to tease a little more. “Even at the Underworld’s gates, Tokiomi still had time for cursive. Such grandiose lettering!”

Saber stands up from her crouching position, brushing her hands. “I would rather know what it says, Archer.”

“Yes, Saber’s right!”

“Spoilsports…must you two glare at me so?” He sighs. “Hmm…it’s a riddle, because what else would it be in this family?”

Sakura laughs this time. It’s a pleasant reprieve from the dismalness of this place.

He raises an eyebrow at the riddle. “It isn’t quite as rhythmic as expected, however—that mad dog’s influence, no doubt.”

Sakura stands on tiptoe to try and get a better look. “Well, recite it, then!”

“Yes, yes, so impatient.” He clears his throat and recites: “I flow through this world, without a sound. Yet with my help, life abounds. What am I?”  

Saber blinks. “…That’s it?”

Gilgamesh turns the parchment around and finds nothing. “It appears so. Alas, an alliance with a mad dog doesn’t gift one with a silver tongue.”

“True.” Saber rubs her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, the answer could be air, but…that would be too simple…”

“Um,” Sakura says softly, “I think I know the answer.” Her voice grows stronger. “Yes, I do know the answer—it’s ‘mana’!”

“…Hm. Yes, this does seem to fit. Yet, why would he give such a riddle in the first place? That would require time he couldn’t acquire.”

“May I see the parchment, Archer?” Saber asks.

Gilgamesh hands it over, having a suspicion of where this is going. “You believe this to be a forgery?”

Saber runs a finger over the handwriting. Her expression grows more assured with each letter. “Now, I can say for certain. It appears that the parchment itself was held by Tokiomi at one point, but there are telltale bumps where ‘someone’ copied his lettering.”

She holds the parchment down to Sakura’s level, and Sakura looks at it curiously. She mimics Saber, following each pen-stroke with a tiny finger; her eyes widen at one point, and she nods in understanding.

“Kirei was careful, but not enough,” Sakura says with a pleased smile.

“Which means,” Gilgamesh says coolly, “that we should ignore his obvious bait and focus on Lancer. If that mongrel priest is determined to lead us by our noses to the Church, we shall force his hand and make him work for it.”

Sakura’s voice raises an octave. “Why? We have a clue, so—”

“—Archer is right, Sakura,” Saber smoothly interjects. “This can only be a trap; we must be cautious.”

Sakura looks at Gilgamesh with wide, pleading eyes.

Gilgamesh fixes a level stare on her. “Have you already forgotten our conversation last night, Sakura? I am informing you of my decision—and it is final.”

Sakura looks ready to argue against him, but after a moment’s consideration she seems to understand. “…Can Rin and I look up clues about Lancer, too?”

Saber’s expression is remarkably open and gentle. “That will be a great help, thank you.”

Gilgamesh thinks of Kariya’s finished article and grins. “You know…since Kariya has concluded his work, perhaps you can convince him to make hot-pot tonight. That will surely lift your spirits!”

Sakura’s eyes brighten, and she nods eagerly. “That’s right, Saber hasn’t had it yet; I’ll ask Uncle Kariya right away!”

“Mind the stairway,” Gilgamesh drawls, as Sakura uses her ring and begins her ascent.

---

While Gilgamesh’s surprise fell through last night, there’s no reason to cancel his outing with Saber: they’re at the town library to research Lancer’s identity.

The steps that lead to the library are rather nostalgic: three huge curves of concrete that bring to mind the mud-brick stairs of Uruk. The library itself, meanwhile, is helplessly modern, with whitewashed “bricks”, a green metal roof as blasé as the elementary school’s, and an entranceway inadequate to its true status.

“A storehouse of knowledge should look grander—the puny door alone seems apologetic at its existence!”

“Yet again, you’re comparing apples to oranges,” Saber says from beside him, a wry smile on her lips.

“How can I resist?” Gilgamesh gestures to the paltry architecture as he would to a termite mound. “Behold, this pitiful design!”

Saber points at the entranceway. “The twisting pillars are a nice touch. And there is a solar, further inside.”

“Yet this is the entranceway, the door to knowledge! What were they meaning to evoke, here?”

Saber adjusts her beret. “Not everything requires such thought. In my time, majesty was important, but so was a solid foundation.”

Gilgamesh huffs. “I suppose it was the same in mine as well.”

Saber takes the steps three at a time. Much to Gilgamesh’s amusement, she holds the door open for him. The ribbon on her sweater’s collar sways in the chill breeze.

“Thank you, King of Knights,” he says as he passes her. “You are certainly living up to your title.”

Saber doesn’t reply, but there’s a small smile on her face as she lets the door shut behind her.

When it comes to design and evoking feelings, the library’s interior is much more appealing: the nut-brown shelves tower over everyone, reaching the speckled ceiling, filled with books of every size and color. Mongrels flock to and fro, sliding books free, reading them where they stand, or moving to sit in the plush chairs that dot the place like landmarks in uncharted territory. Up ahead, Gilgamesh can see a red-carpeted staircase leading to another floor.

“Welcoming, isn’t it?” Saber says softly at his side.

“It’s passable.” He smiles down at her. “But if you find it charming, that is another matter.”

Saber’s brows pinch. “Why?”

“It’s simple: you are discovering joy.”

Saber shrugs and heads to the Mythology section.

Ah, well. She isn’t repressing it, at the very least.

He strolls through the library, quickly getting distracted by the offerings here. The scent of books continues to be a novelty, and he spends awhile breathing in the soft, almost vanilla scent that wafts from the pages. He has good luck with the actual contents, too, finding tales of adventure and timeless myths; of course, they pale in comparison to his own legend, but they’re diverting in their own way.

However, he forces himself to concede the point; they aren’t helpful when it comes to Lancer’s identity—they have too little information to work with.

He rounds a corner and bumps into Saber, who looks relieved to see him. It’s quite an unexpected sight.

“Archer,” Saber says, holding a book in her hands with an expression of utmost seriousness. “I must ask you something. It…concerns this book.”

“Really? How novel.”

Saber blinks slowly at Gilgamesh, as if aware of the pun but unsure if she should acknowledge it. She clears her throat and continues:

“I have read this author’s works before, on Aoi’s recommendation. He has a great eye for description. But…” Here she glances to the side, as if ashamed of something. “In this book, there are lines I cannot understand, even with the Grail’s knowledge. I’ve tried skipping them, but I know I’m missing important details!”

“This could prove amusing,” he says with a grin, taking the book off her hands. He makes sure to hold it at her level, despite how tempting it would be to tease her. “Kariya has talked of such writing before—he calls it ‘dictionary-diving’. Where is this troublesome section?”

“It’s the first line on page 4.”

Gilgamesh finds it easily: “Life-fluid percolated from the moribund pugilist.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I believe that bizarre sentence means ‘the warrior is bleeding out and dying’.”

“…Oh.” Saber holds out a hand stiffly. “I must return that book, now.”

Gilgamesh won’t give up an amusement such as this so easily. He holds it out of reach, flips forward a few hundred pages and quotes “‘The severed oval was divested from the criminal’s scrag’…what an unfortunate word for neck. Truly, this mongrel had no sense of taste!”

Saber scowls and manages to snatch the book from him. “All the more reason to return it, then.”

He considers retaliating, but the novelty’s already beginning to wear off. He sighs. “Very well, do as you like.”

Saber storms off with the book—it seems he offended her somehow. Oh, well. She will survive.

It doesn’t take long for Saber to return, this time with a different book and a victorious smile. “My luck came through, after all.”

Gilgamesh peers down at Saber’s find: a small, glossy novel with a beautiful painting of a chariot racer decorating the cover. The title reads Mahabharata, An Indian Epic.

“And what makes you think that this is the clue we seek?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest.

Saber opens the book and begins skimming. “One of the first details I noticed is that the main antagonist, Karna, has invincible armor that is part of his skin. It was a gift from his father, Surya, but also a curse—it turned his skin to shadow, and he was born to the lowest caste.”

Gilgamesh yawns. “Many legendary figures have received such a fate. Moving on.”

“Here is something you cannot deny: Lancer’s actions against Assassin,” Saber says proudly, paging through the book to the glossary section. “Let me see…here: ‘One of Karna’s other names is Vrishna, meaning one who observes vows, speaks the truth always, and is unfailingly kind even to his enemies’.”

Gilgamesh thinks of how Assassin received a worthy battle, and how Lancer didn’t let him suffer at the end. When you combine that with his lack of reaction to Hydra poison…yes, it does seem sensible.

“It appears you are on the correct path,” Gilgamesh says. He lowers his voice and asks “So, then: how do we defeat him?”

Worry clouds Saber’s face. She closes the book. “I have no idea,” she whispers. “Right now, the best we can do is fight until we’re victorious.”

“…Ah. Well, that seems to work in Rider’s favor. According to Waver’s phone call this morning, Rider fought and defeated Caster last night. Naturally, she was the source of those mysterious ‘gas leaks’.”

“Who was she? And what of her Master?”

“It seems she had no Master to speak of. Judging by Rider’s dramatic delight, it was another Greek Heroic Spirit of some renown.”

Saber smiles. “I see; we should congratulate him.”

“Borrow that book, first,” Gilgamesh says, before stretching luxuriously. “I suspect we’ll find Rider and his Master at their usual haunts.”

---

It takes about a block for Gilgamesh to acknowledge they’re being followed.

He covertly looks over his shoulder, but all he can see is a mass of mongrels behind and around them. Someone sneezes. It’s a disgusting, phlegmy sound. A few mongrels part from the offender, not wanting their germs.

The stalker must be in spirit form—fitting, considering that it’s broad daylight. But what are they after?

“Just ignore it, Archer,” Saber says calmly, clutching the Mahabharata to her chest in a protective fashion. “We need to be inconspicuous.”

There’s another, larger book in a plastic bag Gilgamesh’s carrying for Saber, titled Our Bodies, Ourselves. Why someone like Saber would need a women’s health book Gilgamesh has no idea, but the possibilities are intriguing.

He holds up the bag. “Is something the matter, Saber?”

She shakes her head, a pink tint to her cheeks. “I’m merely curious about such things! Women’s lives are very different now…”

Gilgamesh nods and lets the hand carrying the bag drop to his side. “Yes, even a King must understand their body.”

That presence is still there.

The stalker remains well into the afternoon. Gilgamesh and Saber make certain to circle around Fuyuki, acting as if they’re simply seeing the sights and window-shopping just like every other mongrel. We cannot let our base be found out, not at this stage!

Strangely, the stalker comes and goes, but never stays away long enough to feel truly gone. Gilgamesh surmises they’re checking on their Master, whoever and wherever that may be.

When Gilgamesh and Saber meet Rider at dusk, the red bridge looms in the distance, noticeably emptying of people. There is little time for pleasantries, however.

In that cast of deep orange and purple, the presence reveals itself.

It’s Lancer, of course. He strolls toward them with lanky limbs, his shock of white hair bouncing a little as he walks. His visible eye holds no malice, but it seems as piercing as a blade.

He’s…a striking mongrel, with bone-pale skin covered with a slick, black material that can only be his armor. Gilgamesh takes in the golden, spiked boots and gauntlets, the jewelry dangling at his ears, throat and chest, and the floating cloak as red as a solar flare…and changes his verdict to enthralling. He knows for a fact this armor isn’t in his Treasury, and he shivers at the prospect of claiming it.

Rider whistles appreciatively. “Now that’s what I call a fashion statement!”

Lancer’s lips curl into a lopsided smile. “Ah…thank you, King of Conquerors.” He blinks, as if realizing something, and bows low before them. “It’s only right that I acknowledge the majesty of three kings.”

Gilgamesh may as well have been gifted with a gem, polished to perfection. “What a charming creature you are, Lancer! Truly, you deserve a reward.”

Lancer twitches, as if struck. “What? That’s…”

Saber stares at Gilgamesh in shock. “Archer, what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I am rewarding a mongrel for knowing his place.” He frowns and rests a hand on his hip. “Are you claiming you haven’t missed being revered?”

“That isn’t what I’m saying! It’s too sudden!”

Rider strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Hmm…perhaps you’re right, Saber.”

“Yes, please don’t reward me for a natural reaction,” Lancer says, his head still bowed. “And besides that…you desire my armor, but I cannot give it to you. Sorry.”

Awkward silence oozes through the scene.

Gilgamesh doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s clear Lancer meant no disrespect, yet his honest words were spoken coldly.

“Oh.” Lancer sighs. “I spoke too candidly, yet again. Sorry.”  

“You may stand,” Saber orders, and Lancer obeys with grace. “As you followed us all this time, there must be a reason you’re here. What is it?”

Lancer nods. “One moment; this is a discussion best had over drinks. I’ll buy some from that machine behind me. What would you like?”

Rider doesn’t hesitate. “Canned coffee for me! Truly, it is a grand invention.”

Saber deliberates a little before choosing. “I would like tea, please.”

Gilgamesh scoffs. “I shall provide my own beverage. Your ignorance betrays you, mongrel!”

Lancer blinks at him before slowly nodding in understanding. “You dislike this era, yet…ah, excuse me.”

Gilgamesh grits his teeth as Lancer walks to the drink machine with a willowy gait. Who does this mongrel think he is? He dares to speak so impolitely to the King of—wait. What was it Saber mentioned before? Karna would always speak honestly…yes, that was it.

He smirks. This could prove useful; perhaps even amusing.

“Lancer,” Gilgamesh calls, as Lancer returns with the promised drinks. “Do you enjoy humiliating others?”

“No,” Lancer replies, as the drinks change hands. In contrast to Rider and Saber, he’s chosen apple juice. “You and I are quite different that way.”

“I do not humiliate mongrels all the time, merely when they deserve it.”

Saber glances between them thoughtfully. “Archer, what were you going to reward Lancer with?”

“Candy,” Gilgamesh replies. He summons a pitcher of wine and pours himself a cup. “Or whatever he so desired. On that note, the offer still stands, despite your impudence.”

Lancer sips his drink. He lowers his can, a soft smile on his face. “Thank you for your concern, Saber—and for the offer, Archer.”

Rider clears his throat loudly. “So, Lancer, about that conversation you wanted us to have!”

“Yes, that. I humbly ask for your aid in finding my Master’s father. Her father is clad all in black, is about my height, and”—Lancer’s brows pinch in slight distaste—“he enjoys hamburgers.”

While the description is vague, Saber clearly has an idea of who this missing parent is. “Forgive me, Lancer, but I’m afraid we can’t be of assistance. We have our own Masters to attend to.”

Lancer’s expression is serenity itself. He doesn’t need to expose the lie, not when it’s so obvious.

Saber clenches her fists. “As King of Knights, I’ve vowed to speak the truth at all times. Truly, we have no idea where that man would be!”

“Have you checked the Church?” Rider asks with remarkable gentleness.

Lancer nods. “I just came from there—Kiritsugu Emiya wasn’t there.”

Suspicion wriggles through Gilgamesh’s mind. “Did Kirei tell you that?”

“Yes, and his father too. I couldn’t sense Kiritsugu, either. As a result, I decided that one of you three must know where my Master’s father is.”

“…How very odd.” Gilgamesh turns on his heel. “Regardless, we cannot help you. Find someone else, mongrel!”

Lancer’s feet shift. “You must have a suspicion, at least…”

Like a house of reeds in a hurricane, Gilgamesh’s patience snaps. “Enough of this—if you have nothing of value to say, then die!”

He summons a hefty golden axe and swings it just in time to match Lancer’s spear. An ominous gong sound fills the air.

And what a spear it is. Dipped in gold, with a spiked sunburst on the pommel, the shaft alone would be viable for legendary status. But the bladed head—for it truly is a blade—that is worthy of awe.

It’s flat like a fan, and large enough to sit Saber atop it. The material is as black as pitch, and gleams like slick marble just like Lancer’s armor, with a strange pink section cutting through the center like a leaf’s central vein, or a candle flame. A pink eye design, anointed with spikes, sits where the shaft and head connect, watching in judgment.

Gilgamesh practically salivates at the sight. This magnificent spear deserves to reside in my Treasury as well…!

“So you finally want to fight. Good.” Lancer’s eyes glint.

Gilgamesh grins. “Was this quest of yours a mere ruse?”

Lancer presses forward, his spear digging into Gilgamesh’s axe. “Not at all. But due to my Master’s circumstances, I had no way to fight you before.”

“—I see. So your Master has used a Command Seal!”

They wrench their weapons free. In a blink, they clash again. The clamor blocks out the world. Red sparks fly.

And to think, my armor hasn’t completely formed yet—is this mongrel as fast as Assassin?!

Lancer jabs at Gilgamesh’s feet, forcing him to jump back. Then Gilgamesh’s forced on the defensive. He blocks Lancer’s blows with his axe’s blade; each strike shudders through his body.

“Use your bow, Archer,” Lancer says coolly.

“You dare lecture—ugh!”

The butt of the spear jabs him in the gut. Those spikes aren’t just for show: Gilgamesh feels them catch on his breastplate and tug.

Just as the metal begins to screech—

“Invisible Air!”

A burst of wind smashes into Lancer. He’s launched a few feet away and skids to a stop. In a fluid motion like a predatory cat, he lands on all fours then glides to his feet; his spear never leaves his hand.

“Normally,” Saber says, her armor dark in the setting sun, “I wouldn’t intrude on a battle.” She points her invisible blade in Lancer’s direction. “However, I am the melee expert here!”

Gilgamesh wants to laugh, but he’s too busy making sure his armor is secure. “In this matter, I’ll deign to defer to you, Saber!”

Rider’s uproarious laughter draws everyone’s eye. “Must you three be so stingy? Lancer here seems like a grand opponent!”

Lancer, for his part, looks on all this with a tranquil smile, tempered with a wild brightness in his eyes. “That’s more than acceptable. To fight three legendary kings in one night…that is something to celebrate!”

To say the battle turns chaotic is underselling it.

Lancer is a whirl of shadowed gold; his spear is like a flame turned to metal. Saber may as well be a spirit of the air, sprightly and hard-hitting. Rider strikes like a rockslide.

All Gilgamesh can contribute is a flurry of arrows—and even those are easily shattered by Rider and Saber’s blades. With each accidental intercepted attack, blood roars in his ears. At this rate, we must invest in a queue! 

It’s hard to keep track of things, in this commotion. Somehow Rider gets the idea to try Gordius Wheel on Lancer, and drags Saber and Gilgamesh aboard with him. A wagon hitches to the “driver’s seat” to accommodate them.

“Close quarters is getting us nowhere,” Rider explains, as they take to the skies.

“Must this ride be so tumultuous?” Gilgamesh scowls and grips the rumbling sides of the chariot for dear life.

Rider’s laughter easily overpowers the squeaks and thundering of his Noble Phantasm. “Where would the fun be in that? Novelty has its perks!”

Saber stands as if she’s on solid ground, her sword at the ready. “Do you see Lancer anywhere, Archer?”

Gilgamesh’s gaze scrolls across the park where they were, then the river. “Hmm…perhaps he left?”

Just as they pass over the bridge, Gilgamesh hears a thump.

Two black-clad hands clutch at the chariot’s end; Lancer hoists himself up and joins them. Thank you for the lift, his grin seems to say.

“At least someone is enjoying himself,” Gilgamesh mutters.

Rider doesn’t even glance behind him. “Well, we tried.”

Saber can’t answer—she’s too busy fending off Lancer’s spear. Gilgamesh’s forced to awkwardly climb over to where Rider’s sitting to stay out of the way.

“Hold on!” Rider says, and the Gordius Wheel gains speed.

Gilgamesh’s world blurs. Rider’s planning to shake Lancer off. Gordius Wheel rises up, sinks down, spins in circles, ducks under the bridge—

Gilgamesh’s head and stomach lurch in tandem. His non-existent Riding skill has finally come to haunt him.

Rider grabs him by the scruff and dangles him over the river. “Not on my prized possession,” he growls. “Here, aim for Lancer!”

Alas, that plan doesn’t work; there’s nothing in Gilgamesh’s belly to vomit. Perhaps that’s best.

He frees himself from Rider’s grip and stands beside him as if nothing happened. “King of Conquerors, I shall repay you for this humiliation, mark my words!”

Rider laughs and tugs at the reins, making the oxen slow. “Who would have thought that you and the boy have something in common!”

That Saber and Lancer are still fighting, even in this rollercoaster of a ride, only increases Gilgamesh’s rage.

Saber jumps onto Lancer’s spear, forcing it down. Her blade brushes Lancer’s head. He’s too quick: he drops his spear and kicks.

Saber’s doing well in such a small space. She side-steps Lancer’s kick, swings her blade—

—Lancer’s arm blocks it; sparks burst on contact.

Truly, that armor is a nuisance!

“You know, Archer,” Rider says conversationally, “we could use your—”

“—I’m well aware,” Gilgamesh seethes, before readying his bow and arrows.

Rider guides the chariot toward the river, and in that instant Saber jumps. Her boots make small ripples on the water, and she waits patiently for Lancer to join her.

While Lancer is distracted, Gilgamesh fires his arrows at his back; delight thrills through him when they find their mark. At last! They burst into flames on contact, but Lancer twitches in pain with each hit.

Lancer turns his gaze on Gilgamesh just as the Gordius Wheel skims the water. His face is a death’s mask, beautiful in its blankness.

There is no anger in Lancer’s eye. There is only the look of one seeing a memory brought to life.

“That bow—Gandiva—does not belong to you. Face me with whatever weapons you please—but not that one.”

Gilgamesh smirks. “So, it acquired a name for itself! Yet, you are mistaken.”

He looses another arrow straight at Lancer’s chest.

It shatters against Lancer’s spear; Lancer looks distraught at having to do so.

“You wield my greatest opponent’s weapon so casually; truly, there is a thorn of cruelty in your heart…!” Lancer almost looks angry—good.

“Wherever you saw this bow, it was but a copy of the original right here.” Gilgamesh knocks another arrow back, pulls the string taut. “If you die quickly, you will avoid tarnishing your memory of this treasure.”

“I cannot,” Lancer says, readying his spear. “So I’ll take another option.”

He swan dives off the Gordius Wheel and splashes into the river.

Gilgamesh peers into the depths. The impact must have stunned him. The water is frigid this time of year…

“I have an idea,” he says, and replaces his bow and arrows with an ice sword.

Rider glances at him and makes an appreciative noise.

Gilgamesh holds his sword aloft, letting the icicle-shaped blade glint in the moonlight. “Saber, jump!” he calls.

Saber does so. Her battle-gown billows around her as she moves.

Gilgamesh brings the sword down with all his might. A brittle series of cracks and creaks fill the night air.

Where the tip of his sword touches, ice forms, sleek and solid. It travels across the river like winding silk, reaching all the way to both shores.

Rider turns the Gordius Wheel around to survey the view—and pick up Saber. “What do you know, you do have some idea of strategy! Not bad, not bad.”

“I hope Lancer enjoys a cold bath,” Gilgamesh jokes.

They’ve almost reached Saber; she’s treading lightly across the ice, lest it break. She shivers every now and then, but as usual she seems determined not to let the cold faze her.

“Well done, Archer,” she calls, a hint of joy in her voice.

Gilgamesh jumps off the Gordius Wheel and struts toward her. The ice shifts a touch under his weight. “Your praise is quite charming. Another!”

Unexpectedly, Saber breaks into a run—

A burst of red, as bright as a solar flare, overwhelms Gilgamesh’s vision. It’s like a comet beneath the ice.

…That light is what struck Assassin. Gilgamesh remembers it vividly: the heat of it, how Assassin’s body smoked like charred meat afterward.

Someone pushes him out of the way. He manages to roll away from the blast. The ice burns on his cheek and forehead.

When Gilgamesh’s vision clears, he immediately gets to his feet, looking for Rider.

He quickly finds him: Rider’s theatrical cape took most of the damage, for some reason. His Gordius Wheel has vanished, likely to avoid being roasted. He’s kneeling next to a huge, gaping hole in the center of the frozen river—right underneath where the chariot was. The hole spreads further than that, almost to the bridge.

Gilgamesh follows Rider’s gaze…and feels bile rise in his throat. “No…you foolish—!”

Saber is down there, in the freezing river.

He runs, runs. His heavy breaths turn to mist. He removes his armor, inhales deeply and dives into the melted hole in the river, heedless of everything else.

The water is shockingly cold; his body wants to halt instinctively. But he forces his legs to kick, his arms to stroke, his stinging eyes to search the dark depths.

His mind asks: What is the matter? Saber is but a mere mongrel, one long dead at that. You dare grant her the same dignity as your only friend?

A small, simple-hearted part of him answers: Ponder that later. Why waste such entertainment?

The lights of the city have one boon: they pierce through the ice and provide some measure of sight. As water bubbles around him, he keeps an eye out for the gleam of metal. His chest is already beginning to burn, but he knows he has time.

Save for the bubbles, and the deep sloshing sounds of his arms and legs, there is no sound underwater. Every so often he feels clammy scales brush his skin, followed by a disheartening glint of silver. Combined with the green-tinged darkness, it would be enough to drive a lesser man mad.

How fortunate, then, that I have traversed similar depths before.

He finally reaches Saber, floating like a ghost and sinking ever downwards. Her hair twines and twists in the water like a living thing, and her eyelashes are shockingly dark on her pallid face.  

He wraps his arms around her body, so cold and still. He can’t stop staring at her injuries. It’s almost fortuitous that she’s close to drowning: she’s covered in burns, her skin red and waxy. Her armor is intact, but it’s little help here.

In a burst of desperation he opens a portal and shoves Saber inside; he enters afterward.

---

Gilgamesh gasps like a dying fish as soon as he passes through the portal. Air fills his burning lungs. He blinks his stinging eyes; the candlelight is almost painful at first. The stone floor is drenched with water, which will need cleaning later. Regardless, in here, there is warmth and light. That is enough for now.

Trailing kelp and less sanitary river gunk, shivering with cold, Gilgamesh shuffles toward Saber’s prone body, lying close at hand.

He rubs his hands together in a bid for warmth before loosening her armor. Thankfully, the breastplate only requires a few steady tugs to be pried free. The rest soon follows, and he tosses it carelessly to the side.

“Your armor is more lightweight than mine, I see,” Gilgamesh says, despite knowing that she can’t hear him.

He places fingers to her clammy neck. Her pulse starts off faint, but soon grows stronger, steadier, beneath his touch.

“Look at yourself,” he grumbles, before carefully rolling her onto her back and performing CPR.

Once, he joked to Kariya about how lifeguards must have the grandest job of all modern occupations; he hadn’t factored in that when reviving a drowned person, breasts are the last things on one’s mind.

He presses his hands on her chest and begins pushing, and within a few pumps Saber’s body jolts to life, coughing up water and gasping for air.

Gilgamesh scrunches up his face in disgust—hot, spat-up water is not something he would prefer on his person. But Saber’s alive, which is welcome.

He can feel her labored breathing in his arms, and her eyes are as dull as dusty jade. She feels as light as crumbling clay—You mustn’t think of that, you mustn’t—and he instinctively holds her close.

Until Saber retches yet again, that is. He resorts to summoning a cot for her to lie on. She sinks back, her breathing finally evening out.

“You are determined to ruin my garments, it seems,” he says dryly.

“…My…apologies.” Saber’s reply is hoarse, but genuine; somehow that irks him.

Gilgamesh snaps his fingers and lets Rider rush into the portal—he has no patience to deal with the cold night air at the moment.

“Gods,” Rider murmurs, as his eyes alight on Saber. “Do you have anything to cure burns, Archer?”

“That is a foolish question,” Gilgamesh sneers. “Aloe would be best.”

A large stone bowl of it appears beside Saber in a burst of gold. The aloe matches her eyes as she glances down at her battered body.

“Oh,” she murmurs, and dips her fingers into the aloe. Even after narrowly averting death, she daubs her wounds as if she’s fixing her armor, not her flesh.

“Lancer’s gone—once he broke out of the ice, it seems his Master called him.” Rider’s trying to act casual, but it’s clear he’s discomfited by Saber’s mechanical reaction as well.

“Good,” Saber says, not looking up. “We cannot fight in our conditions—though my healing abilities should begin to work soon.”

“…‘We’, truly?” Gilgamesh smirks. “It is clear which of us is the most injured, Saber.”

“Yes, I clearly didn’t push you far enough away.”

This casual admission hangs in the air like musky perfume, disorienting Gilgamesh’s train of thought.

“You—you protected me, in other words?”

Saber cocks her head to one side, her expression guileless and serene. “Yes, as Rider moved out of the way faster.”

“Is that so! You hear that, Goldie?” Rider chuckles and elbows Gilgamesh’s side.

Gilgamesh scowls and slaps his arm away. “Do not be so impudent, mongrel.”

“Indeed,” Saber says sternly. “You are seeing something that isn’t there, King of Conquerors.”

Rider grins and waves a huge, dismissive hand. “Right, right, I shall take your word for it!”

“How are you faring, Rider?” Saber asks, spreading aloe over her knuckles.

Rider looks to his mantle, clearly disheartened. “…Well, my body is alright, and everything should be repaired soon. Still, look at this!” He holds up a frayed corner of his mantle as if it’s his own wounded kin. “Lancer shall pay for what he did, I assure you!”

Saber sighs. “Lancer aimed to escape his prison, but also injure you two if possible. I must admit, I’m pleased that your attire took the brunt of the attack!”

“I suppose you’re right…well, I should take my leave; my Master will be waiting for me impatiently. Despite initially planning to get a new game, I had fun tonight!”

“I’m glad,” Saber says, a slight warmth to her voice. “It was good to ally with you on the battlefield, King of Conquerors!”

Rider puffs up proudly at that. But his expression soon softens into something melancholic. “Saber,” he murmurs, “get some rest. It would be a waste otherwise.”

“Hm. I will put that under consideration.”

Rider glances at Gilgamesh, makes a helpless gesture, and departs through the portal again. It closes behind him with a ripple.

Done with her upper body, Saber holds up her skirt, revealing the long, torn white bloomers underneath. She spreads aloe on each visible burn without flinching once.

“Do you have a chill, Saber?” Gilgamesh asks. “Your time in the river was extensive.”

Saber smiles slightly at him. “No, this place—your Treasury, I take it—is already warming me considerably.”

He wants to press the issue further, but Saber turns her attention elsewhere.

“You must be cold, Archer,” she says, a hint of concern in her voice. “You should find warm clothes to wear.”

“How unexpected of you, King of Knights,” Gilgamesh purrs. “Are you growing fond of me after all?”

“Mm, perhaps…excuse me.”

Gilgamesh stares as Saber removes her bloomers without any preamble, seemingly uncaring of her audience. He cringes when the white fabric catches on a freshly aloe-smeared burn.

Saber’s brows pinch slightly. “Archer, I require a blade. Please.”

He summons a small knife, but instead of handing it to her he opts to kneel by her side, holding it loosely in his hand.

“Archer…?”

“This way,” Gilgamesh murmurs, his fingers lightly stroking the leather hilt of the knife, “you can rest your hands.”

Saber looks ready to object, but she sighs and nods. “…Very well, you may.”

He makes a point to avoid touching her excessively, and ensures the fabric and knife is far from her skin before slicing. He makes deft work of the bloomers—he suspects they will reappear when she next dons her armor—and where burns become visible Saber places cool, soothing aloe on them.  

“The wounds are already healing,” she says, as if to reassure him. “And what of you, Archer?”

He stands and returns the blade. “I’m a little bedraggled, but unharmed.”

Taking a cue from her, he begins peeling off his sopping wet shirt. Clammy itchiness crawls along his back and arms until he removes his shirt entirely; it lands on the floor with a wet flop.

Saber stares at the shirt, then at Gilgamesh. “Oh, I see, you’re about to bathe.”

“Indeed,” he says, resting one hand on his hip. “As I dove into that frigid muck to rescue you, I require a warm bath to soothe my body.”

Saber nods—then she pauses. Her eyes widen, and her expression turns downcast. “…You risked your life to save mine.”

Gilgamesh grins and turns gracefully on his heel. “Consider it a debt repaid.”

“Very well,” Saber says from behind him. “Do you have something to eat? I require more mana.”

“Of course.” He gestures to a long hallway to their right. “You need only this way. If you need me, I shall be bathing.”

“Thank you,” Saber murmurs, and her wet feet slap their way down the hall.

Gilgamesh makes his way down the opposite hall, knowing that Saber will find whatever she desires without his assistance. Saber’s casual disregard for her own health rankles, just as Kariya’s does—which is not something for either to be proud of. How can you obtain your wish if you act so foolishly? Perhaps that plan of mine regarding Rin and Saber was a miscalculation…

…Well, it seems Saber has put Rider’s advice under more than mere consideration after all. For now, I shall be content with that.

As he enters the washroom, the marble bath gleams in the candlelight. The clay floor is heated under his feet, bringing with it a familiar, foolish nostalgia. The clear water is the proper temperature, steam curling in the air. With a little wriggling, he removes his soaked trousers and sinks into the welcome warmth. 

As he dips his head underwater and resurfaces, his hair clinging to his forehead and the back of his neck, he feels his mind beginning to clear. That scuffle with Lancer was invigorating, as Rider said…but was it necessary? It’s possible that the priest was telling the truth, but why would he let that mongrel run loose so easily? And that passage…as Saber said before, it all seems so convenient. And with Sakura’s mother so falsely reassured, that only increases the suspicious nature of this affair. If nothing else, I have news to bring to Sakura—no doubt she’ll be curious about Kirei’s involvement.

Gilgamesh sighs and combs a hand through his hair, watching the candlelight play on the water. He's remembering why he rarely uses Gate of Babylon for this purpose; if he remains here for too long, he becomes ever more homesick. All around him lies remnants of Uruk, jewels, garments, tablets and more, all with that unmistakable feel of his city. He runs fingers through the water and lifts them to his lips, tasting the fresh sweetness on his tongue. This, too, is of Uruk. And yet, like any beguiling oasis, or glowing star in the sky, it is far from his reach now. I accept that, I must accept that, but...for some reason, it is growing difficult. 

He thinks of Sakura and her memory-dreams, and hopes she has another tonight. Perhaps, that will soothe this foolish behavior. 

Chapter Text

This dream isn’t a memory, but it has a similar vividness that’s hard for Sakura to describe.

Sakura finds herself in a lush, green forest. Somehow she instinctively knows that the trees around her are cedars. Even Rider would look small compared to them. The metal-gray ground dips under her feet as she walks toward one tree in particular, surrounded by rocks that look like crouching bears. The tree seems to stretch endlessly outward, with huge thick limbs and flat-looking green leaves. Part of it has been burned; charred dead limbs threaten to topple, and the gray bark is marred with thick black gashes.

When she reaches the base of the trunk, she sees someone sitting high among the branches. His long hair sways in the breeze, a striking lichen-green. His skin is deathly pale, and mostly covered by a white tunic and trousers.

When he clambers down easily from the branches and lands at her feet, she looks at his bright green eyes and knows that this is Archer’s one companion from her dreams.

“H-Hello.” She feels smaller than ever next to this man. “Are you…Archer’s friend?” It doesn’t hurt to make sure.

The man’s smile is as fresh as spring. “I am.” He cocks his head to one side like a bird. “Did he not tell you my name?”

She shakes her head. “He…he doesn’t like to talk about you much. Not that he hates you! He really doesn’t, he—”

The man’s soft chuckle gives her chills. “Oh, I’m well aware of that. I do wish he wouldn’t treat my name as if it were moth’s wings.” He inclines his head. “My name is Enkidu.”

“En-kidu,” she mutters, the name feeling strange on her tongue as she sounds it out. “It sounds strong!”

Enkidu casually hefts a nearby boulder with one hand and sets it down with great care. “No doubt that was the point,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Sakura claps with delight. A thought comes to her as she rests her hands by her sides. “Um, Enkidu, I don’t want to be rude, but—why am I seeing you? I usually can’t talk in memory-dreams…”

“Because this is no memory.” He perches on the rock and lets his hands dangle between his spread legs. “As things often do, it comes back to my dear friend—or, as you call him, Archer.”

“What about Archer? Is something wrong?”

“The Grail’s key will soon appear in Fuyuki once again. You will find your strength in quieter powers. At the same time, it will seem like your bond with Archer is as fragile as old pottery.” Enkidu’s brows furrow. “You have seen this already, in fact.”

Sakura tries to push back the creeping, cold fear in her chest. “…Are you telling me the future? Then, what should I do?”

Enkidu sighs deeply. “I cannot see the whole future, Sakura. I can only see the dilemma you will soon face. The question becomes: do you need Archer to survive, or do you need each other to live?”

Enkidu places his hand on her cheek. His touch is as cold as ice.

Before Sakura can ask what he means, or to thank him, the cedar forest fades…

“…Sakura, it’s time to wake up,” Aoi says softly, looking in through the half-open door. The pendant Tokiomi gave Rin hangs from Aoi’s neck, swaying on its silver chain.

Oh, so that’s where it went! It looks pretty on her. Sakura yawns and sits up, her mind fogged over from sleep.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Umm…pancakes, please.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” Aoi says with a smile, closing the door behind her.

Sakura climbs out of bed and finds some clothes to wear, taking a moment to figure out if she has to go to school today. (She doesn’t.) As she scoops up a purple hoodie and blue overalls, she slowly realizes she’s forgetting something important. Huh…wonder what it is…?

When she’s in the bath, scrubbing her greasy, sleep-matted hair, she hears Rin banging on the door for her turn. She hurries through the rest of her bath, pulls on her clothes like it’s a race against time, and dashes out the bathroom door to let Rin rush inside.

Dressed, yet with nothing to do until breakfast, Sakura heads toward Archer and Kariya’s room.

Sakura only just remembers to knock on the door instead of barging in—Archer’s probably still asleep, since she didn’t hear him and Saber come home. It’s a good thing Uncle Kariya couldn’t cook last night!

Her hesitant knock seems very loud in the stillness of the morning. She waits with baited breath for a response.

It’s Kariya who opens the door, looking wide-awake as he grins down at her. “’Morning, Sakura. Is it time for breakfast already?”

“Almost,” she replies, watching the morning sun turn Kariya’s black turtleneck to a dark blue. “Actually, I had something to tell Archer—is he up?”

Kariya glances behind him; he chuckles and turns back to her. “He’s pretending to be asleep,” he whispers, and steps aside for her. “You know what to do.”

Sakura struggles to keep from laughing as she sneaks into the room—it’s been awhile since they’ve had time to play. It may not be as useful for Archer’s mana as blood, but Sakura knows that playing around helps keep things lively. She focuses on the rising and falling lump beneath the covers, and the slight hint of blond hair peeking out on the pillows.

“Good morning,” Sakura sings, before climbing onto the bed.

The mattress rumbles with Archer’s chuckles, jostling her a little. “Who disturbs the King’s slumber?”

Sakura starts fumbling around for Archer’s feet, the mattress beneath her sinking and rising like a living thing. “A heroine who knows no fear!”

Archer, of course, has to make this difficult: he wriggles around under the covers, forcing Sakura to pause and wait for him to stop.

“Oh, is that so? Well, if I cannot scare you away, I shall resort to something far more sinister…”

Sakura’s heart is already racing with giddy delight, and her gaze flicks around the shifting blankets, waiting for Archer’s hands to pop out and do…

“…Something like this!”

Sakura instinctively squeaks when Archer’s hand crawls out from beneath the covers, his fingers creeping toward her foot. Laughing, she tries to pull away, but it’s too late: he’s already grabbed her ankle and lightly tugs her toward him. Her free leg flails uselessly; he grabs it with his other hand. Due to still being beneath the covers, Sakura can’t see him properly, which would be intimidating if not for the game they’re playing.

Then Archer eases into a sitting position, the covers falling away to reveal his mischievous grin. His hair is tussled from sleeping, flat in the front and flyaway in the back; a strange sight considering how he normally looks so tidy in the mornings.

“I caught you,” Archer says triumphantly. Her ankles are small enough that Archer can hold them with one hand. “Now, then, I must find your weakness, O brave heroine!”

Sakura feels disappointed for a moment—if Archer’s forgotten, it’s really been a long time—but she soon figures out what he means.

“Hmm, is it here…?” His fingers gently brush against her toes, making them wriggle instinctively. It doesn’t tickle, though.

Sakura grins and shakes her head.

Archer runs his fingers across the top of her feet, frowning as if in thought. “Not there, either? Truly, you are a mighty foe!”

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut and waits for Archer’s next “attack”. Her body tenses in preparation.

Nothing.

She keeps waiting, her heart pounding in her chest.

Still nothing…?

As soon as she relaxes, Archer’s fingers skitter across the soles of her feet, bringing the airy, ticklish feeling she wanted.

“There it is,” Archer crows, nearly drowned out by her giggling.

Sakura squirms about, trying to escape. “I won’t lose!”

In the end, there’s more useless flailing and giggling involved than actual escaping—but she does manage to break free when Archer loosens his grip on her ankles.

She soon realizes the cause: Rin came in at the right time, looking curious. “Oh, that’s what you’re doing,” Rin says, arms folded across her chest.

“Do you wish to play as well?” Archer asks.

For once, Rin doesn’t act like a snob about something “childish”—instead she shakes her head and smiles. “No thanks. Actually, Saber wanted to talk with me in the garden, so that’s why I was in a hurry today!”

“That sounds fun,” Sakura says and smiles back.

“Thanks—oh, here she is! See you later!” Rin waves, spins about and dashes off.

“She’s in a pleasant mood today, I see,” Archer murmurs, looking satisfied with this change. His posture is open and relaxed.

Not one to waste such an opportunity, Sakura lunges for Archer’s firm belly and begins her own counterattack. She’s rewarded with a gasp and Archer’s body quivering with mirth under her hands.

It doesn’t take long before both of them get tired out, and Sakura flops back onto the mattress to catch her breath. Archer recovers faster; he’s sprawled out like a lion after a meal, eyes half-lidded.

It’s at that moment, as Sakura begins to relax and simply float on the soft blankets, that she remembers her Enkidu dream. It feels like ripples on a smooth lake, reminding her of why she woke up in the first place. Sakura sits up slowly, trying to piece together the dream in order—and to remember not to say Enkidu’s name, since Archer’s clearly touchy about it.

“I see you’ve recalled something of interest,” Archer says, looking ready to melt into the bed and fall back asleep.

Sakura nods, folding her knees underneath her. She rests her hands on her lap, in that way Aoi does when she wants to say something important.

“How do I put it…I had a dream about your friend. But the weird thing is—it wasn’t a memory-dream!”

Archer blinks and rests his chin in his hand, looking like the King of Heroes again. “I require elaboration.”

Sakura closes her eyes, the better to avoid that mind-piercing gaze, and does her best. There’re a lot of stops and starts, but she thinks she gets the point across. There comes a point, however, where she finds there’s a gap in her story.

“Then your friend said…well, he had a question. But…”

She tries to focus, to force herself to remember what Enkidu said. But all she can think of is how cold his hand was, how she could almost smell the cedars. She sighs and shakes her head, the beginnings of a headache stirring. I guess that dream wasn’t as strong as the memory-dreams usually are. Maybe Enkidu didn’t want me to remember that part?

“You needn’t bother,” Archer drawls; there’s a hint of tenseness in his voice. “I understand.”

“Do you think it was”—Sakura struggles for the right word—“really him?”

“I would not be surprised. My one companion had many talents; dreamwalking would be an easy task!”

Sakura smiles at Archer’s pride in his friend. “What do you think it means, though?”

“…That, I cannot say.” Archer stretches and slips out of bed, running a hand through his hair. “I have need of a bath.”

Sakura nods agreeably and hops off the bed, ambling to the door. A question floats through her mind as soon as she reaches the threshold. Has Archer had dreams like this before?

But she soon realizes it’s too personal, so she ignores it, leaving Archer to his bath.

---

When breakfast is over, the phone rings.

For some reason, it sounds shriller than normal, possibly because Sakura was focused on tying her shoe. But that’s not really the reason, and she knows it: as the morning’s gone on, she’s found herself increasingly on edge, waiting for something she can’t quite describe. She finishes her shoelaces and stands up from the kitchen table. No, I know what it is, Archer and Saber just told me—Kirei really, really wants us to go to the Church. And he’s willing to use Lancer to do it.

When Aoi picks up the phone and rests the receiver on her ear, Sakura’s attention focuses on her.

“Hello, Tohsaka residence,” Aoi says cheerfully. “Who is it?”

Sakura watches Aoi’s smile fall from her lips, and how her fingers clutch at the black curly cord. Her green eyes grow dark, but not with worry. Instead, it looks like Aoi’s getting ready to tell someone off.

“Oh!” Aoi’s tone is at odds with her expression; it’d be creepy if someone else did it. “Then, why didn’t you ask us to come over sooner, Kirei?”

The name Kirei draws everyone’s attention. Sakura hears Rin and Kariya run downstairs, while in the living room Saber looks up from her book, and Archer leans forward on the couch, his catnap over.

Aoi’s smile is tinged with relief—then she focuses on what Kirei’s saying on the other line. “…Oh, I see, you have errands to run…sure, I can come keep Father Risei company while you’re gone.”

Around the corner, Rin’s fist punches the air. Sakura muffles her giggling behind her hand.

Aoi twirls the phone cord around her finger then lets it unwind. “…It’s my pleasure, Kirei. Goodbye.”

Sakura waits until Aoi hangs up before saying eagerly “So, now we can check out the Church without having Kirei in the way!”

Saber lets out a hum of disagreement. “It seems rather convenient, don’t you think? After all that effort he put into getting us there, now he plans to leave and let us search for ourselves?”

Kariya crosses his arms and leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Well, if Father Risei’s there, Kirei really does have errands to run.”

Rin nods. “Besides, we can’t just stay cooped up in here forever!”

Aoi stares at the phone for a long moment before speaking. “I have an idea. Saber, Rin and I can go through the front door and keep Father Risei company. In the meantime, Archer, Kariya and Sakura can sneak in through the back entrance and start searching.” Her brows pinch with worry. “But we’ll need a way to communicate…”

Archer drums his fingers on the coffee table. Finally, he lets out a gusty sigh and summons a pair of earrings from his Treasury. “These should suffice.”

Sakura could hug him right now. “More communication earrings!”

They’re studs with magnets, just like the other pair, but are “plain” silver. They wouldn’t draw much attention, which is particularly useful this time.

Rin scowls. “Hey, how come we didn’t use those before?”

Archer scowls back. “Because these are delicate, and though I invested in several copies back when I first acquired them, I refuse to have my precious treasures stolen or worse yet again!”

Sakura inwardly winces. I thought you forgot about that! “…I really am sorry, Archer,” she murmurs.

“I shall accept your apology…once again.” He rolls the studs around in his palm for a moment then looks to Saber. “Do you wish for the honor of bearing this treasure, King of Knights?”

Saber cocks her head to one side. “If I have to fight, I fear your treasure would come to harm.”

“Possibly, yes. But very few could ever harm you in combat.”

Saber smiles wryly and holds out her hand. “Very well, I shall take one.”

Archer hands a stud to her with a confident grin. Then he frowns, as though he just remembered something. “Ah, what of Rider and his Master? They could make use of this opportunity as well.”

Kariya frowns. “Yeah, but that does make our ‘teams’ uneven—I don’t think Rider and Waver would want to split up in a case like this. What do you think, Aoi?”

“In this case, the more people we have, the more luck we have. Oh, maybe they can keep a lookout for Kirei, or that Lancer!”

“Won’t Rider still be tired from fighting Lancer, though?” Rin asks.

“That is true,” Saber says, nodding. “If something occurs at the Church, no doubt Waver and Rider will investigate it anyway.”

Archer stands up, a determined smile on his face. “Well, then. Do we have an accord?”

There’s a unanimous “Yes”.

---

Before they leave, Rin tells Sakura “Come down to Father’s study with me. There’s something I want to ask you.”

Sakura doesn’t mind, and follows Rin down the familiar steps into the leather-and-wax scented room where they’ve spent so much time.

Rin lights the candles, one by one, and walks over to the black boxes where their special gems are stored. Sakura rests her back against the desk, leaving a companionable gap between her and Rin. The study seems bigger than usual today—maybe that’s a good thing.

“Back then, Mother and I snuck that ring and those bloodstones for you,” Rin says, flicking open her box’s lock and searching inside.

“Thanks, again,” Sakura says with quiet sincerity.

Rin glances at her over her shoulder and smiles. It’s a littler sadder than Sakura would like. “It’s all we could do. Anyway, Father had time put one of the bloodstones back here—you know, the ‘Lassen Sie diese Blut halt’ one?”

Sakura remembers Tokiomi’s clouded eyes, how he didn’t protest when she threw the bloodstone back at him in helpless anger.

Rin gives her a concerned look. “Are you okay, Sakura?”

She presses her nails into her palm and nods. “I remember.”

Rin picks the bloodstone up; her head bows as she stares at it for a long moment.

“You know,” she says slowly, “I wonder sometimes if this could’ve saved him.”

Sakura’s heart sinks. “Me, too.”

Rin tilts her palm from side to side. The bloodstone rolls about like a searching eye.

“When you came back with Archer and Uncle Kariya, but without Father, it made me mad,” Rin continues, as if talking about a distant relative. “I couldn’t believe you gave Father up for—for copies.”

“It’s not like that,” Sakura snaps. “Father and Archer, and Uncle Kariya—they’re nothing alike!”

Rin stops playing with the bloodstone; her fingers curl around it, white-knuckled.

“Right,” Rin says, still sounding far away. “So it’s stupid to think that way.” She breathes out a self-deprecating laugh. “Y’know, I even thought about using the Grail to bring Father back…but it’s obvious that wouldn’t work.”

“You think the Grail’s still corrupt?” Sakura can’t believe it. Not the words, but that Rin’s saying them.

“Well, considering how something keeps stacking the deck against us, or making sure that you in particular find something that hurts you—something good wouldn’t do that, right?”

“…That makes sense. Oh, and that the Grail tried to bring in relatives or even Masters from the last Grail War!”

“What about Assassin’s Master?” Rin asks skeptically.

“Hmm…maybe he was a decoy.”

Rin smirks. “Like Kirei’s telling us about Aoi’s stuff getting shipped. He made it sound like something mysterious, but really it was just regular Association things.”

Sakura blinks. “Why didn’t I hear about that?”

“You did, you were just zoned out at dinner a few days ago!” Rin snickers, but her voice is gentle when she asks “You weren’t worried about it, were you?”

“No,” Sakura lies.

Rin opens her fist and turns her attention back to the bloodstone in her hand. “Do you want this, Sakura?”

There are lots of reasons to take it: the healing spell is useful. It’s Sakura’s birthstone, so it will work particularly well for her. It’s a memento of Tokiomi.

There are equally good reasons not to take the bloodstone: it reminds her of Tokiomi, of how he abandoned her, and how despite that Sakura can’t help but feel sick at the thought of him stuck in that passage, trapped with Berserker. Do I still hate him? Do I miss him? Or am I just holding on to something useless?

Sakura looks at the bloodstone, how it glints in the candlelight, smooth and pulsing with mana. Then she looks at Rin, and reminds herself that it wasn’t Tokiomi who thought to give her that gem.

She holds out her hand with a determined smile. “I’ll take it. Thanks, Rin.”

Rin smiles back and tips the bloodstone into Sakura’s palm. “You’re welcome.”

As Sakura places the bloodstone in one of her overall pockets, her heart feels lighter. She doesn’t dwell on why.

---

Sakura peers at the back of the Church through the trees, trembling with excitement. “I’m so glad we can do this together, Archer!”

“It does feel as if this excursion was long overdue.” Archer sighs and runs a hand through his spiked-up hair. His fur-lined jacket sways as he shifts his feet. “Ah, well, I suppose it’s better late than never.”

Kariya doesn’t take his eyes off the Church. “Are the others inside yet?”

Archer listens carefully, the communication earring glinting in the sun. “…Yes, we can go now.”

Kariya ducks under a branch and begins creeping toward the Church. Sakura follows, watching the threads of the Bounded Field around the building shine a deep blue in the sunlight. It seems…thinner than it should be, as if waiting to invite them in. The spell was probably lowered to let Aoi come inside safely.

Sakura’s theory is proven right when Archer slips through the Bounded Field like scissors through silk, and so does Kariya. They shiver a little when they pass.

Sakura soon finds out why: this Bounded Field is icy cold, like fresh spring water. It’s a fitting feeling for something meant to guard a holy place.

“Maybe this is a trap after all?” she wonders aloud.

“Inevitably,” Archer mutters with a huff. “But in the end, we have little choice in the matter. If that mongrel wishes to ensnare us so badly, we shall give him a struggle to remember!”

Kariya scowls and presses a finger to his lips. They stop and listen.

Seconds tick by, each more tense than the last.

When no alarms go off, they continue.

Kariya opens the wrought-iron gate that leads into the Church; the hinges are well oiled, and it moves silently.

Archer steps forward, tensed for a trap, but nothing happens.

“Hold on,” Archer says, and grabs Kariya by the shoulder.

Sakura instinctively grabs Archer’s jacket; as she hoped, they appear in the courtyard through wisps of gold. It’s the same tranquil place as always, with beautiful flowers and the sweet melodies of birdsong. A brick pot has been added, with an acid-purple flower squatting inside it.

“Huh,” Kariya mutters, “there’s an apple sapling too.”

The white pillars cast long shadows over the cobblestones and bushes, turning the grass into a darker shade of green. Even the benches haven’t been moved, still in the best positions for warm sun and cool shade.

Sakura catches something out of the corner of her eye. Heart pounding, she whips around to look.

For a moment, she sees the white hair and thinks it’s Miss Irisviel. But she soon realizes her mistake—this girl is too short, and she’s wearing a purple silk shirt and long, frilled skirt that matches her hair. Her red eyes stare blankly at them, as if they’re just part of the scenery. Yet in Sakura’s opinion, this girl looks like a heroine blessed with beauty and cleverness, the sort that makes stepmothers turn wicked.

“Oh,” says the girl, and her lips curl into a strange smile. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Sakura.”

The way this girl says her name makes Sakura’s hair stand on end; it’s sickly-sweet yet with little feeling behind it. “You’re…Lancer’s Master?” she asks, looking this way and that for any sign of the girl’s Servant.

“Of course! My name is Illyasviel von Einzbern.” Illyasviel curtsies politely, yet it’s a slow gesture, as if it hurts her to move. Her strange smile remains. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about Lancer right now.”

“Why not?” Archer asks.

Illyasviel puts a finger to her lips. “It’s a secret.”

“Is Kirei gone?” Kariya asks, glancing around warily.

“Of course. He said he was leaving a while ago.” Illyasviel giggles. “We’re free to do what we want!”

Sakura slips her hand inside her pocket, and curls her fingers around her gems. “Are we going to fight, Illyasviel?”

Her red eyes close in disappointment. “Since I’m the Grail vessel, I’m using my mana to power Lancer, and keep myself…awake.” She sighs wistfully. “I wish we could fight—when I heard about you and Rin, I was really happy!”

Sakura’s chest feels heavy, but she offers Illyasviel a smile. “Me, too—it’s amazing that there’s another Master like us!”

“No kidding,” Kariya says dryly. “It’s as if this was planned, or something.”

Illyasviel giggles. “Of course it was! The Grail wants things to be fun, remember?”

Archer frowns. “‘Fun’, you say…in that case, there was a reason for the oddness of this Grail War.”

“Hmm, that’s right. But that’s nothing to worry about—Lancer’s taking care of it.” Illyasviel looks down her nose at Archer with pride. “And Lancer’s the strongest!”

Sakura glowers at her. “No, Archer is!”

“Ha, not with you as his Master! He can’t even use his Noble Phantasm correctly—”

Sakura storms toward Illyasviel, yearning to knock that smug grin from her face. “—You take that back, right now!”

“No, I won’t!” With that pout, she actually looks like a kid now.

“Yes, you will!”

“Nope!”

Just a few more steps…

“Enough, you two,” Kariya says, and tugs Sakura back. “She’s just trying to rile you up, Sakura. Don’t fall for it!”

“But…!”

Sakura looks back at Illyasviel, who looks genuinely surprised at Kariya. She catches sight of Illyasviel’s hand. It’s frozen in place, about to brush her hair behind her back—but there’s a faint glimmer of Magecraft in a few strands, a last-ditch attempt to protect herself. As she said before, it’s not strong enough (yet?) to really work in a fight.

That’s right, there’s no point in fighting right now—we don’t have much time. Who knows when Kirei will come back?

Sakura sighs and lets her body go slack. “…Okay, Uncle Kariya.”

Then she thinks of another idea; it could be cast aside, even laughed at by Illyasviel. But Sakura knows if they just walk off, the Einzbern Master will follow them and get in the way. And a Mage should play to their strengths, like Miss Sola-Ui taught me!

“Illyasviel, do you like riddles?”

Archer chuckles fondly, and Sakura’s chest warms at the sound.

It takes a moment for Illyasviel to respond. Then she smiles and says “Oh, Mom told me about that! And then you tried it with the Archisorte heir, but she beat you.”

Sakura clenches her fists. “So you were the one I saw on that roof!”

“Actually, that was Lancer.” Illyasviel folds her arms behind her back and nods. “Anyway…sure, I can play a riddle battle with you. But what will we bet?”

Sakura already has an answer for that. “If you win, you can do whatever you want with me.”

The idea seems appealing, judging by the sly grin she receives in return.

“Sakura,” Kariya warns, but Sakura smiles reassuringly at him. Archer doesn’t look very pleased either.

“If I win…”

She looks at Illyasviel then at the quiet courtyard. It hits her that Illyasviel is alone, and slowly dying. She thinks of Miss Irisviel, the stiffness of her hands and her gentle hug—and how she knew for Sakura’s plan to work, she had to die.

…We did all that so someone like Illyasviel wouldn’t have to die alone.

Sakura looks at Archer, and sees in his eyes that he had the same idea.

“‘If you win’, what?” Illyasviel asks, a hint of brittleness in her voice.

Sakura looks back to her and smiles softly. “You can help us search.”

Illyasviel looks at her like she’s speaking a foreign language. Her white hair sways from side to side as she shakes her head to clear it.

“Okay, that seems fair. Best three out of three?”

Sakura nods. “Sure.”

While the rules are being set, Archer and Kariya continue their search—Sakura knows she can call Archer if needed, thanks to her Command Seals. Illyasviel doesn’t seem to notice them leaving.

“Do you mind if I go first?” Sakura asks.

“Be my guest.”

Sakura takes a deep breath. She already has a riddle in mind. “Okay. What breaks when you don’t hold it?”

Illyasviel puzzles over it for a moment, then says softly “‘A promise’, right?”

“Right,” Sakura says, a little disappointed—apparently that was too easy.

Illyasviel beams with pride. Then she asks “I’m tall when I’m young and short when I’m old. What am I?”

As simple as the riddle sounds, it’s actually very hard. Lots of things follow that description, from people to buildings. But Sakura doesn’t want to answer any of those things just yet. She shifts her weight from foot to foot and thinks.

“Do you want a hint?” Illyasviel asks cheerfully.

Sakura laughs and rubs the back of her head. She’s not afraid to admit it—particularly since, just like Reines, Illyasviel wants her to be uncomfortable.

I just have to stay calm, and think of this as a game…

“Yes, please!”

Illyasviel, surprisingly, doesn’t taunt her about it. “It’s not very tall. But it’s hard to handle, too.”

“Thank you,” Sakura says, and continues mulling over the possible answers. Hard to handle, hard to handle…tall when it’s young…

Her heart leaps as the answer hits her. “It’s ‘a candle’!”

Illyasviel nods happily.

Sakura does her best to think of another tough riddle to match Illyasviel’s. She smiles when she finds a perfect one.

“By night, they come, but aren’t called. By day, they’re lost, but not stolen. What are they?”

Illyasviel laughs. “Oh, that’s easy, they’re Mom and Dad!”

“Huh?” That’s an odd answer. Then again, Mother is home a lot. But why would Mothers and Fathers come at night? Oh, right, to put you to bed!

Illyasviel frowns. “That’s…not the answer?”

“Nope, sorry,” Sakura says genuinely. “Do you want a hint?”

“No, thank you—I can do this!”

“Okay.” Sakura has no trouble waiting.

It doesn’t take long for her eyes to light up. “…I get it now—they’re ‘stars’!”

“That’s right. You’re doing well,” Sakura says, because it’s true (and she likes the way Illyasviel smiles when she says that).

“Let’s sit down,” Illysaviel says, shuffling toward one of the stone benches.

Sakura follows her, trying not to look at how Illyasviel’s body sways with each step, or the way her chin sinks into her chest like she’s ready to sleep.

The bench is cool when Sakura sits down, which makes her jolt, but she’s the only one who seems to notice. Maybe that’s just an Einzbern thing?

Illyasviel giggles, as if remembering a joke. “This one might be easy, but: ‘A million feet in the air, but its back’s on the ground. What is it?’”

Sakura laughs, immediately guessing the answer. “‘An upside-down millipede!”

The two of them laugh at the mental image, the joyful sound strange in the clean whiteness of the courtyard. Somehow, their argument before seems silly enough to cast aside for the moment; probably because Sakura can sense how tired and weakening Illyasviel is. There’ll be plenty of time to fight later, once Lancer comes back.

After awhile, Sakura realizes that they’ve gone past “three out of three”, and have been stuck at a tie. Illyasviel rests her hands on her lap and kicks her legs lazily back and forth—it’s as if she gets bursts of energy, loses it then gets it back again. There’s a small space between where they sit, polite but friendly.

Just then, Kariya comes back. He looks like he’s trying not to feel worried, which makes Sakura tense up.

“There’s something you need to see,” Kariya says, after a long pause. “Both of you.”

Sakura immediately stands, while Illyasviel takes her time.

“Where is it, Uncle Kariya?” Sakura asks, as Kariya gently pushes them both toward the courtyard’s hall.

Kariya’s eyes flick about like a frightened horse’s. Then he sighs and mutters “Down below.”

---

Inside, the Church is dimly lit with old lamps, casting an orange glow on everything. Sakura watches their shadows on the brown walls overlap, split apart, and overlap again, turning into some strange dark beast. In the distance, she can hear Aoi talking to Rin and Saber. If I can’t hear Father Risei, he must really be sick…

They go down one flight of stairs, and Sakura realizes there’re more rooms in the Church than she thought. They pass a closed door, where a sliver of lamplight peeks through the bottom like a miner’s headlight, piercing the dark.

“Is this Kirei’s room?” Sakura asks Illyasviel, who’s walking beside her.

“Yeah, that’s his study! I guess his bedroom must be in there, too.”

It’s strange, to think of Kirei sleeping on a bed. He seems like the sort to fall asleep at his desk, or while standing up. But she’s not so suspicious of him that she thinks he doesn’t sleep at all. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Kirei can stay up as long as Archer!

Even though Sakura’s curious about it, they walk past Kirei’s study without peering inside once.

“This way,” Kariya whispers, drawing Sakura’s attention to a stone staircase, tucked away in the corner.

She freezes. “It—it looks like the passage back home…”

Illyasviel waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve been down here before, it’s not scary!”

Kariya’s chuckle is a little weaker than normal. “Well, you’d know.”

Thankfully, lights shine down on the stairs, which sets it apart from that dark passage. There’s a chill in the air, stale and a little moldy, that brings Sakura’s mind back to where Tokiomi lay trapped.

Nobody says a word as they walk. The sounds of their footsteps are overly loud, like discordant drums. It’ll tell anyone we’re here from halls away! She forces herself to think of something else—like what Kirei could be doing. Does a spiritual healer like Kirei need medicine?

Sakura guesses they travel down two flights of stairs before they reach the bottom—a good length to hide a secret place. At the bottom of the stairs, the place splits into two halls, like mole tunnels. She can smell old books down one hall, and down the other…nothing. Maybe it’s just been cleaned?

Kariya picks the odorless hall.

“We’re in the basement now, aren’t we?” Sakura asks, reminded of the Worm Pit yet again.

“I guess so,” Illyasviel replies, sounding more curious than scared. “…Kirei told me it’s easy to get lost down here.”

“Here we are,” Kariya says, pushing a heavy door open but stopping before entering. “…I know it’s probably too late, but—Sakura, Illyasviel, are you sure you want to go in?”

“We could get in trouble—but I want to see anyway!” Illyasviel says, like a heroine should.

“And if Archer’s stayed behind,” Sakura adds, “it must be important!”

Kariya nods. “…Okay. If I tell you to close your eyes, you have to do it, got it?”

Sakura nods back. Illyasviel must, too, because Kariya steps through the door and beckons them to follow.

Illyasviel makes a disgusted noise. “It smells like a hospital!”

Sakura sniffs the air and winces. Now she gets why there wasn’t any scent before—the bland, antiseptic stink was the cause.

…It’s very dim in this place. Soon Sakura’s eyes adjust, and she sees threadlike beams of light piercing through the ceiling. So it’s not really dark, but more purplish-black—like a bruise. There’s no point in fumbling around in a place like this, though.

She holds up her ring. “Gib mir Licht,” she murmurs, and the room turns Tohsaka blue.

“Wow,” Illyasviel says, her eyes wide and bright with delight. “So that’s what Jewel Magecraft looks like!”

Sakura puffs up with pride. “My Mother gave this to me, it’s helped me so many times!”

Kariya chuckles. “And me, too. See, I wouldn’t have seen those drawers on the right if not for that ring.”

Sakura shines the light on the antique drawers, noting the delicate, swirling etches and brass handles that her parents would love.

“What’s in there, do you think?” Illyasviel asks eagerly.

Something moves to Sakura’s left. “Garments,” Archer replies. “Priestly smocks, and other such items.”

“Any luck, Archer?” Kariya calls, moving past Sakura toward the sounds.

“Quite. Having the key to the world’s locks has many advantages.” There’s a shifting sound. “Oh, and it seems Saber has news. Greetings from the basement—I trust you have found something of interest?”

Kariya ambles out of Sakura’s line of sight. It looks like he’s going to check out that door Archer just opened.

Illyasviel tugs on Sakura’s sleeve, and Sakura follows her pointed finger.

In the far end of the room sits a shrine. It’s made of wrought iron, with what looks like a mirror behind it, and three lumps are cradled inside it. At the front, just above the three steps that lead to the shrine, is…something pretty.

Sakura points her ring at it, smiling as the light plays off the stained glass. Purple, red, green, each color is as dark as gemstones and glint wetly in the light. It’s the center of a gate.

“What do you—ah, I see,” Archer says tersely. “I would suggest you accompany Aoi and Rin back home.” There’s a pause, followed by a sigh. “Remind Rin that the mansion is in need of protection, particularly from its heir.”

Illyasviel’s already moving toward the gate; her hair looks like metal in the light. Sakura follows behind her, ready to pull her away if needed.

“Hey,” Kariya’s voice echoes. “Hey, guys. There’s something weird about this room.”

“Uh-huh?” Sakura murmurs, her eyes fixed on Illyasviel and that gate.

“…Yeah.” There’s the sound of something being jostled. “Look at all this tubing! What is this stuff?”

Sakura’s attention finally crawls toward Kariya’s find. She walks over, her wrist beginning to ache from being held in one position.

Kariya moves over slightly, to let Sakura have room to look inside. It’s brighter in this room, but there’s not much to see: just coils of pale-green tubes, twisting like vines through three small holes in the far end of the room, and other things that don’t make sense to her. Are they coffins? No, coffins aren’t made of stone.

“Kariya,” Archer growls, “time is of the essence! We must—” He pauses. “—You there, Grail vessel, where are you going?”

“Through the gate,” Illyasviel says matter-of-factly. “Don’t you hear the noises?”

Sakura and Kariya stare at each other in confusion. The only noises Sakura can hear are the burbling tubes.

“Kariya, Sakura,” Archer snaps, “get away from there at once!”

They instinctively obey.

Sakura bumps into Archer’s leg as she stumbles back. She looks up at Archer’s face; he’s shocked and angry for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” Sakura says, “did I do something wrong?”

Archer shakes his head. His expression clears. “Father Risei appears to have vanished; as such, we must investigate that pathetic excuse for a shrine over there. And this tubing is too suspicious to linger near.”

Sakura doesn’t mind, she trusts Archer’s judgment. “Can you hear the noises, Archer?”

He nods and walks toward the shrine.

Illyasviel opens the gate (the hinges are silent) and enters, side-stepping something before reaching the three lumps.

“These are coffins,” she says matter-of-factly. “The ones on the right and left look empty…”

Her fingers trace a cross on the center coffin, and it responds with a harsh bang and series of shudders.

“Step aside,” Archer orders, and holds out a large key. It’s a strange-looking thing, about as big as a hunting knife, and covered in gems that Sakura knows must have True Magic in them.

“I am loathe to use this so impulsively,” Archer complains, even as the coffin creaks open.

Sakura steps back, shielding her face with her arms as a strange, pale fog comes out of the coffin. It reminds her a little of the smoke that comes with a Servant being summoned, but it’s soon clear that this is oxygen. But why would something like that be in a coffin?

The fog clears.

When Sakura lowers her arms, she finds Archer’s hand is already blocking her vision. While the gesture’s meant to keep her safe, it instead makes her belly lurch. Now, she has a guess as to what’s waiting in that coffin.

Illyasviel lets out a choked gasp. “Dad?”

There’s a horrible hissing and sucking noise, like someone trying to speak through a tube.

“It’s the Mage-killer,” Archer says, his tone utterly flat.

“Help him,” Illyasviel cries, followed by the sounds of her pulling on something. “Someone, please—!”

Sakura hears Kariya rush forward to the coffin. She can’t seem to speak. What’s happening before her confirms every horrible thought about what Tokiomi went through.

There’s a rubbery thump as something hits the floor.

“Here,” Kariya mutters, “The mask is off. I’m pulling out the tube, okay? I’ll do it slowly.”

Illyasviel’s sobbing almost overpowers the slippery noises. Small, thick and wet things splat onto the floor—hopefully it’s just saliva.

With a sickening slurp, the tube’s pulled free. The Mage-killer’s desperate hacking and gasping fills the room.

“Well done, Kariya,” Archer says.

Kariya laughs nervously. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wet towel on you, Archer? I’ve got…stuff on me.”

A portal opens, and Archer tosses a wet towel to him. “Catch. Now…he had a gun of some sort, correct?”

“Yeah,” Illyasviel replies, her voice still thick with tears. “I—I know what it looks like.”

“Clothes,” the Mage-killer rasps. “They’re…in the drawers…”

“I can get them,” Sakura says, and bolts for the drawers.

She doesn’t bother being tidy as she digs through the first drawer, then the second, pushing smocks and habits back and shoving the heavy drawers shut. Finally, at the bottom of the third drawer, she finds the Mage-killer’s neatly folded suit and the gun in its holster. I guess he’s still wearing his underwear—that’s good.

She carries over the suit first, just in time for her to see the Mage-killer hold Illyasviel close with desperate arms. Strangely, he seems to be recovering fast, despite being locked up in a coffin for days.

“Here you go,” Sakura says, awkwardly glancing away as the Mage-killer chuckles and takes his suit from her.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and begins dressing. He’s as efficient as Kirei—he’s done in seconds. “I’ll get everything else, can’t have a kid handle a gun.”

“Hey!” Illyasviel snaps.

“Sorry, Illya—remember what Dad told you?”

“…Yeah.”

The Mage-killer strides over and grabs his holstered gun. He must have a secret pocket in his long coat, since that’s where he stores it.

“I didn’t expect a heroine like you to save me,” he says to Sakura. It almost sounds like a joke, but it doesn’t land.

It’s true—Sakura has no reason to help someone like the Mage-killer. It’d be better off it she didn’t, in some ways. And yet, deep inside her, she feels that that would be wrong. Something about this whole Grail War is wrong, even more so than the last. It’s just not right.

Sakura looks to Illyasviel, how relaxed she is now that her father is able to walk around. It reminds her of how different Rin was when Tokiomi was alive. The thought makes Sakura’s chest feel heavy.

“I just don’t want someone else to lose their father,” she says. The truth of it makes her voice turn thick and harsh.

It looks like she actually managed to surprise him. Then he chuckles and glances at Illyasviel. “Well, what do you think, Illya? Should we help them out?”

Illyasviel shrugs innocently. “A little bit.”

“Very well.” The Mage-killer walks back to Illyasviel, resting his hand protectively on her head; it’s uncomfortably nostalgic. “I’ll do my best to keep this simple.”

Chapter Text

“Do you have any idea what the priest is after?” Gilgamesh asks, watching the Mage-killer with thoughtful eyes.

At first, it looks like the Mage-killer won’t answer. Then he smirks and says “Sure, I'll tell you. Kirei loves to gloat, especially to a captive audience.” He cocks his head to one side. “I take it you mean ‘what he wants aside from the Grail’?”

“Obviously, mongrel.”

The Mage-killer shrugs lazily. “Just checking.” His cold eyes show that he’s all business. “In order to get the Grail, he needs a Servant that can stop you.”

Gilgamesh places a hand on his hip and smirks. “That's a fool’s errand to the extreme.”

The Mage-killer chuckles; it’s without a trace of humor. “Well, he’s in luck: the Grail wants him, apparently.”

“Strange...how so?”

“He claimed the Grail came to him after the Fourth War ended,” the Mage-killer says doubtfully. “It…looked like his dead wife, for some reason.”

“It visited me, too,” the Grail vessel murmurs. She closes her eyes as if she sees something painful. “I think—the Grail shows you someone you miss very much.”

Sakura looks at Gilgamesh with open concern, but he smirks and shakes his head. She smiles with relief.

Kariya almost looks disappointed. “So, Kirei’s not just out of his mind."

“Anyway,” the Mage-killer continues. “The Grail had no problem summoning powerful Servants for this Grail War, along with the Servants that destroyed it last time.”

“So the Grail wants revenge…” Sakura murmurs, her eyes glazed over with concern.

“That's what it seems like,” the Mage-killer says calmly. “But, once again, things didn’t go the Grail’s way. No matter what Servants or Masters it throws at you, they either forfeit, get taken out by the others, or ally with you. Sure, there’s still blood being spilled for the Grail’s benefit, but it wanted yours spilled more than anything.”

“So Kirei captured you,” the Grail vessel says, slowly understanding, “to try and get Lancer to attack Archer and Saber!”

“It worked remarkably well. It also connects conveniently with the priest’s attempts to lure us here. But the priest had designs on you, mongrel—and I have a suspicion as to why. Entertainment, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” the Mage-killer replies.

Kariya looks at the coffins then back to the Mage-killer. His eyes widen. “Mana…he wants to summon another Servant?!”

Well, well. At last, the priest has finally become entertaining.

The Mage-killer nods. “He learned many things from the Fourth War, and from Tohsaka. He knows Berserker is the hardest Servant to control, but in sheer power it’s perfect for his needs. He just needs Berserker materialized long enough to kill the three Knight Classes, plus Rider if he’s lucky, and then the Grail will be his.”

“Ah, so that’s the reason why Lancer tracked us down last night. The priest has the makings of a puppet master.”

“Fortunately, even with my blood, Kirei doesn’t have the right amount of mana to control Berserker—and something went wrong with the Summoning Circle.” The Mage-killer’s tone suggests that it was his doing.

Kariya looks into the shrine. “…Yeah, it’s all scratched.”

Gilgamesh imagines Kirei toying with the Mage-killer for a time, extracting the required blood, and reveling in his prey’s resilience. No doubt he completely missed the scuffmarks until it was too late. And yet, the Mage-killer’s limbs are still intact—perhaps he was saving that for later, as one would dessert.

“But,” Sakura pipes up, one hand clasped protectively to her chest, “what’s Kirei’s wish?”

Gilgamesh shrugs. “Happiness, perhaps. I care nothing for the plight of one who wishes to manipulate me. And as I said before, I shall again: the Grail is mine, and thus he is but a mere thief.”

“Leave it to you to keep things simple,” Kariya scoffs.

“So,” Sakura says, looking at the shrine thoughtfully, “when Kirei said he had errands to run…maybe he went looking for a better Summoning Circle!”

It takes a moment for the theory to settle in. Then Gilgamesh acknowledges it with a nod. “And there is one in particular he knows very well.”

“Back at home…!” Sakura clenches her fists and runs for the stairs. Kariya soon overtakes her.

“Good luck, Sakura!” the Grail vessel calls, as if they’re parting after a long day of playing. It seems Sakura’s sincere kindness has struck again.

“Thanks!” Sakura yells in the distance.

“Will you accompany us—or are you focused on the corrupted Grail?” Gilgamesh asks the Mage-killer and Grail vessel. Not out of concern, of course, but mild interest.

Father and daughter look at each other and shrug. The apathy is mutual, then.

“Don’t worry about the Grail, Archer,” the Mage-killer says calmly.

“Why not?”

The Grail vessel smiles serenely. “Lancer’s taking care of it.”

Gilgamesh thinks of that blast that wounded Assassin and Saber, and how keen Lancer was on not using his spear. Ah, I see. So we're meant as bait.

“And if he fails?”

The Mage-killer bares his teeth in a vicious grin. “We came prepared. I’d love to tag along and take Kirei out—but I have bigger prey in mind.”

Gilgamesh grins back and follows after his vassals. His instructions to Saber seem more dangerous now.

---

It’s still early in the day, which poses problems.

For one, any scuffle will cause a commotion, and thus send law enforcement after them. Second, Gilgamesh can’t teleport directly from the Church to the mansion, what with the town-wide distance between them. And Rider is still resting…

Sakura laboriously runs down the hill after Kariya, her hair flying behind her like a small banner. Her feet skid and stumble on the steeper part of the hill, but she never falls. Kariya's up ahead, impatiently shifting from foot to foot before the crosswalk's blinking "do not walk" signal.

Sakura stops to rest against the rock wall that snakes up the hillside, sweat already dripping down her face. She wipes it away with her sleeve roughly, as if chastising herself.

“I hate this!” Sakura's tone is so childish that Gilgamesh can’t help but chuckle.

“Traveling by foot is useless,” he calls to Kariya, who turns around and jogs back to them. “We require a different solution.”

They make sure to stay out of sight, in case a blissfully-ignorant citizen tries to lend a hand. A curved side of the wall, covered with hanging vines, serves their purpose well enough. 

Sakura looks at her Command Seals, unused and bright as wet ink in the sunlight. It’s clear she’s been hoarding them, refusing to use them for fear of cutting their time together short. But there is no time for sentiment, Sakura.

Sakura looks up at Gilgamesh, a hunted expression on her pale face. “Archer—may I use a Command Seal?”

“I shall allow it.” He braces for the harsh, burning weight pressing onto his bones.

Sakura nods. Her Command Seals shine like polished rubies. “By my Command Seal, Archer—I order you to bring us home!”

The order burns through him like a brand. He takes hold of Kariya and Sakura, teleporting to the mansion in a bone-quaking burst of energy. It feels like an eternity before they get there. Though the pain lessens with each mile, it still echoes through him—a bitter reminder of his role in the Grail’s system.

When they arrive at the mansion’s doorstep, Gilgamesh tries not to show how much his head’s spinning. It takes a moment before it clears up, like his brain’s righting itself in his skull. Then he holds Sakura back from opening the front door.

“What’s wrong?” Sakura asks, her eyes wide.

“Wait,” Gilgamesh replies, listening intently. “We must be careful, in the event Kirei has already arrived.”

Silence.

Kariya holds out a hand. “Give me a practice sword, Archer.”

“No,” he snaps, the very thought making his mouth taste bitter. “If the Mage-killer was brought to his knees by K—”

Sakura tugs on Gilgamesh’s cape then mimes listening.

Somewhere in the house, he hears a floorboard creak. That’s hint enough.

Gilgamesh reluctantly lets Sakura go, and they enter.

After so many hours listening to the soft thrum of activity in this house—Aoi cooking or reading, Kariya typing up his articles, Rin and Sakura studying or playing—the silence of darkened mansion is as quiet as the Underworld. It’s as if the walls are watching, waiting. The mantelpiece clock tick-ticks in the living room. It sounds more mocking than reassuring.

There’s only one place Kirei would go: the study in the basement.

But before they can head for the stairs…

“Sakura? No, don’t come in,” Aoi yells from the living room. Her panic is barely contained.

Sakura pauses, despite clearly yearning to go help. Kariya’s gaze flicks from Gilgamesh to the lightless living room, his breathing raw.

“How strange,” Kirei replies. “It seems your obedience has its limits after all, Aoi. Could it be that Rin’s life matters so little to you?”

“Shut up, Kirei! Saber’ll never—ah!”

“Hm. And here I thought you outgrew believing in heroes, Rin.” There’s a sound of something metallic being lifted.

There’s a rip and thud, as if Rin broke free of Kirei’s grasp. Or he stabbed her.  

“You bastard…!”

Kariya rushes to the living room, heedless of danger. Sakura reaches out to grab him, pull him back—but her hand clutches air.

It all happens fast enough that Gilgamesh can barely see it. Kirei lunges for Kariya, grabbing the side of his head. Even if Kariya wanted to stop, he can’t. And Kirei’s grip is so tight that Gilgamesh can hear Kariya’s hair threatening to tear from the roots.

Everything slows. Gilgamesh’s mind goes blank; he tries to act fast enough to help—

With one shove, Kirei slams Kariya’s head against the doorframe before letting go.

The thud seems to last for hours, the impact in grotesque high quality. Bloodstained splinters clatter to the carpet. Gilgamesh can see each twitch of Kariya’s flesh, and can count the seconds before his body loses consciousness. It’s both too long and too short.

As if recalling a joke, Kirei chuckles softly to himself. It’s disgusting in its sincerity.

Kariya’s body slides down to rest against the doorframe before falling backward.

It’s only now (too late, always when it counts) that Gilgamesh can catch him in time. Kariya's as light as spider silk in his hands. 

Sakura's eye is on Kirei; lashing out her hand, she growls “Bindungsreben.”

Wait, Gilgamesh wants to say, as dark tendrils slither from Sakura's fingers and seek their prey. Kirei is all-too-human, and the Hollow Element is useless against flesh and blood. But as Kirei heads for the basement stairs, Gilgamesh realizes what that spell is for: it clings to Kirei's Black Keys like a thick, webbed film. He begins his descent anyway. If nothing else, that will slow him down for a time.

Gilgamesh hooks his arms beneath Kariya’s armpits and drags him to the couch. Why must you be so delicate, mongrel? He carefully ignores the way Kariya’s head lolls from side to side, and how the blood sluices down his cheek.

Aoi slowly stands up from her protective position by Rin’s side. She, too, has been injured: her right hand is mangled, as if Kirei stomped on it. Even the smallest movement makes her whimper in pain.

Still, when Gilgamesh sets Kariya down on the couch, Aoi sets to removing the splinters from his matted hair with her left hand, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

Rin doesn’t look much better. Her clothes are rumpled and torn. She’s scraped her knees and bears matching bruises on her wrists. Her left twintail’s beginning to loosen, her wavy hair spilling against her shoulder.

“Kirei beat us here, of course, but he hasn’t summoned a Servant yet. I used a Command Seal on Saber, so she can keep Kirei busy as long as it takes. Mother”—her voice catches—“she tried to protect me from Kirei, but he…”

Sakura’s silent, staring at the bloodstained doorframe. 

“You should avert your eyes,” Gilgamesh says softly, keeping the heaviness in his heart locked away.

“I can’t.” Sakura’s voice and eyes are lifeless. “That’s Uncle Kariya’s blood. It's so dark…”

He walks to Sakura with weighed-down steps. She seems as small and fragile as a scrap of silk. He waits for her to snap at him, demand to know why he didn't act sooner. She keeps staring at the blood, as if trying to figure out if it's real. 

“I can heal Mother’s hand,” Rin says with quiet determination. “But…Uncle Kariya’s head won’t be so easy.”

Gilgamesh looks back toward the couch. He watches intently for a sign that Kariya’s breathing; it’s so faint it’s almost impossible to notice. 

“There is still time,” he says to Sakura, though he doubts she’ll hear him in her current state.

Sakura is as still as death, her dark hair obscuring her face. A shard of sunlight pierces through the window, glinting on the drying blood.

Tears trickle down Aoi’s cheeks, leaving wet trails behind. She squeezes Kariya’s hand tightly. There’s no response.

“Sakura,” Rin snaps, her hand outstretched. “We need that bloodstone, now.”

“Sorry, I’m coming.” Sakura’s voice is emotionless as she stands up and takes Gilgamesh’s hand. Her grip is so tight it’s making his knuckles whiten.

They walk over together. When they’re both standing in front of the couch, Sakura lets go of his hand with obvious reluctance. Slipping a hand into her pocket, she holds out a bloodstone in her palm. Despite the tears trickling down her cheeks, her eyes are ablaze with anger and determination. She rests the bloodstone on his injured head, heedless of the blood wetting her sleeve.

“Lassen Sie diese Blut halt,” she says, her voice strong and clear.

Kariya’s eyes appear to flutter open, but that’s only wishful thinking. The blood stops, but…

Sakura opens her mouth to try again, but Aoi interrupts her.

“I’m not sure that’s enough, Sakura,” she murmurs.

The used-up bloodstone rolls off Kariya’s head and onto the couch cushion. One side is a deep reddish-black.

Sakura’s hand threatens to dig into Kariya’s turtleneck, and the flesh beneath. Sweat's beading on her skin, throwing the toll on her body in sharp relief. “Then what do we do, Mother?!” Her voice jolts up an octave, like a knife on stone.

“Wait,” Gilgamesh says, resting his hand on Sakura’s shoulder and keeping his voice low and calm. “You mustn’t panic—that will only make things worse.”

For a moment, he wonders if she heard him. Then Sakura takes a deep breath, breathes out, and focuses once again. “You’re right. That’s—that’s what Kirei wants.”

“Precisely. And if what that mongrel says is true, than the Grail’s power must be cut off at the root.”

Sakura doesn’t seem to understand at first. But then her lips curl upwards. “No more deaths. Right, Rin?”

Rin looks to the adults, then her sister, her lips pressed in a thin line. Then she nods.

Aoi’s uninjured fingers curl around her necklace, her decision made.

Sakura looks up at Gilgamesh. “Archer, you don’t have to stay here. Go make Kirei pay.” Her cool eyes hold no mercy, only the desire for justice to be served.

“Oh, you needn’t order me, Sakura—I shall deal with him as a mongrel deserves.”

“Good.” Sakura’s voice is as harsh as a whip-crack.

There is nothing more to say.

---

Gilgamesh goes down the stairs alone. 

While he could cast it aside before, now his mind can only replay the scene of Kariya’s head slamming into the doorframe, and the too slight rise and fall of his chest. The images mingle and crash into the last moments of his one companion, too frail, too quiet. They are not, cannot be considered the same, yet he’s still forced to lean his head against the wall and breathe evenly. Fool, imbecile! You knew this would happen, you knew this was a trap. Despite your instincts, you were still too slow when it mattered…!

The wall is cool on Gilgamesh’s skin. His breathing begins to slow, and his heart begins to steady. He grounds himself in thoughts of Sakura, how she’s already working to figure out how to rescue Kariya. She is handling this remarkably well; she knows where we're each needed most.

I must reward her faith. He huffs out a laugh, imagining Sakura berating him for dawdling like this.

He teleports the rest of the way, the glimmering light a cold comfort. He doesn’t need to listen for anything amiss—it’s obvious that there’s a fight brewing in the study.

As soon as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Gilgamesh forgoes subtlety: one kick and the door opens.

The study's desk hasn't been moved yet, and he soon sees why. Illuminated in the flickering candlelight is a match that should be unfair: Saber versus Kirei. But Kirei is an Executor, and one of the finest the Holy Church ever forged. Destroying spirits is one of his most sacred duties. 

Only Saber can—and does—match Kirei blow for blow. It’s steel armor against Kevlar, Excalibur against Black Keys. Metal sings, harsh and loud as they clash. They’re a wild blur of violence, beyond anything Rin and Sakura can yet reach. And to think, their fight began only moments ago. That Sakura's spell has long faded shows how lucky it is that she's upstairs, and not in the thick of things.

Kirei bumps up against a chair—there’s an opening.

Saber lunges forward, Excalibur extended. It stabs Kirei’s right hand—then slices down. Flesh rends. Blood spatters on the chair. Five Black Keys drop from his fingers.

Kirei grabs hold of Excalibur’s blade with his injured hand, heedless of the pain. “Are you acting as an instrument of revenge, Saber?” he asks, his voice rich with amusement.

Saber keeps a firm grip on Excalibur, scowling in disdain. The communication earring glints in the candlelight. “You insist on making this family suffer—anyone would want you dead!”

She pries Excalibur free, and Kirei’s brows furrow slightly, as if refusing to acknowledge the agony.

“I agree, that seems quite reasonable,” Gilgamesh interrupts from the door, pointedly blocking Kirei from leaving. “In fact, priest, you made a grave error coming here at all.”

Saber flicks a glance toward Gilgamesh, trying to tell him something with her eyes alone. Her movements are as subtle and silent as possible, the better to avoid detection.

He smirks. You wish for me to serve as a distraction? Gladly...but I refuse to waste my precious swords on him.

“You seem very fixated on the Tohsaka family,” Gilgamesh continues, forcing Kirei’s attention on him. “Is it merely because they trusted you?”

“Not quite,” Kirei says, taking the bait with a sardonic smile. “In truth, it’s a matter of thanking my teacher. If not for my apprenticeship with Tohsaka Tokiomi, I would have never found happiness.”

“Happiness, you say…and yet, there is a bitterness to your words, priest. Why should that be so?”

“I am still a man of God.” Kirei’s shoulders stiffen, as though trapped under a great weight. “And a man of God who finds joy in others’ pain, especially from those under his protection—he’s nothing but a dog, a Godless sinner!” The loathing in his voice is palpable.

“So you admit your actions are evil?” Saber stares at Kirei as if stunned.

“Of course.” Kirei looks to the desk, where the Summoning Circle lies hidden. “In the end, my father’s illness is a gift. While he rests in the church he loves, he can still believe that I am as pure as the name he gave me. But…I still need an answer. So I shall ensure victory at any cost.”

The hilts of the Black Keys shift in Kirei’s hands as his uninjured fingers flex and twitch. His shadow flickers on the wall, as if writhing in pain.

“My question is simple: For me to be born a monster, yet share my pious father’s blood…there must have been a reason for this hideous nature of mine.”

Upstairs, because of Kirei Kotomine’s unanswered question, a family sits broken and distraught. Then there are the other Servants to be considered. Each with their secret yearnings, so desperate they would attempt to steal from the King of Heroes—they longed for their wish to be granted. Yet they were summoned as meat to be butchered. And the Grail, rotted and vile, hungry for the flesh of Heroic Spirits, sought Kirei Kotomine out for that purpose. That longed-for Miracle looked upon Kirei's wish and deemed it worth a bloodstained farce.

Gilgamesh, King of Heroes, set aside his precious time (with Kariya, with Sakura, with his beloved garden) for this.

Gilgamesh’s body trembles; laughter bursts from his belly. He has to lean against the doorframe for support. The wood gently creaks against his arm.

“Archer…?” In the haze of his amusement, Saber’s a blue and silver blur.

“Why do you laugh, Archer?” Kirei has to raise his voice to be heard. “You asked for my reasoning, and I gave it!”

Gilgamesh wipes a tear of mirth from his eye and slowly straightens up. “And what a reason it is! As I live and breathe…ah, Kirei, perhaps I underestimated you after all.”

In truth, it isn’t that amusing. Kirei’s longing could be considered understandable. Gilgamesh’s laughter comes from the anger boiling in his blood.

He chuckles again, gesturing to Kirei’s hardening face. “Behold, Saber! This man—or rather, mongrel—has killed his teacher, allied with a relic he knows to be tainted, and planned an entire, murderous farce…to receive permission to live.”

“From the Grail,” Kirei seethes, a vein pulsing in his neck. “From something as vile and empty as me—”

Gilgamesh howls with laughter. Perhaps Kariya's unconscious state is a boon...he needn't listen to this depressing mongrel.

“Enough.” Kirei strides toward him with Black Keys raised; his eyes are bright with the desire to kill.

Watching such an arrogant mongrel lose his footing so easily never ceases to be entertaining. It’s almost a pity. In the last War, under different circumstances, Kirei could have been a worthwhile curiosity: His desires festering under the surface of a pious shell, that yearning for happiness…all traits worth acknowledging.

And yet, here Kirei is, trying to satisfy his desires on a time-crunch he created. After ten years, perhaps, he would prove a formidable opponent. But right now, he's like a dog hunting for scraps. 

Such ugliness must be eradicated. Gilgamesh stalks away from the door, his armor forming from his chest down with each step. I want this fool to understand just how grave a mistake he made, harming my vassals—!

Kirei wastes no time: he lunges toward Gilgamesh with his Keys guarding his neck. His strikes are relentless. Each clang and scrape rattles Gilgamesh’s armor.

He toys with Kirei a little, barely moving out of the way, letting Kirei understand how durable his armor is. 

If the Black Keys find a way through the plating and mail, however, that will pose a problem. They’re Holy items, and even Heroic Spirits must be cautious of those.

Gilgamesh sidesteps another stab. The desk suffers. With a crack, wood shards scatter across the floor. Kirei’s forced to leave a Black Key buried in the remaining wood.

Saber’s keeping her distance for now; Kirei keeps his back to chairs, bookshelves, the desk in the room’s center—all of which will slow Excalibur.

I shall deign to listen to his gloating, then.

“If you wish to summon a Servant who can best me, mongrel,” Gilgamesh says, as Kirei brandishes his remaining Keys, “I suggest you spare yourself the humiliation of failure!”

Kirei’s laughter scrapes against Gilgamesh’s ears. “Oh, I think not, King of Heroes,” he rasps, finally looking weary. Yet he speaks as though each word is a long-awaited delicacy. “You see…I know your legend. And there is one who bested you: a wild man, made from clay.”

An icy shiver crawls up Gilgamesh’s spine like a spider.

The mongrel before him takes in his reaction like a gourmand at a banquet, savoring the myriad layers with unbridled pleasure. A King shouldn't give a mere mongrel the satisfaction, but—

Loathing and contempt, thick and hot, surge like bile through Gilgamesh’s body. “Oh, the methods I could use to make you suffer. A slow drowning in boiling oil, perhaps…or I could tear you limb from limb!”

“You flatter me,” the mongrel says, thrusting his Black Keys at Gilgamesh’s head.

With a flick of his wrist, Gilgamesh knocks the Keys from the mongrel’s hand; when they hit the floor he kicks them well out of reach.

“I retract my earlier threats. Those would be too kind, too worthy of a martyr.” You require something...dull. 

“Is that because of Kariya? I must say, I’m surprised at how fragile he was.” the mongrel asks, a contented grin on his lips. “But then, I shouldn’t have expected much from a King’s spoiled pet. Perhaps I shouldn't summon your 'friend' after all? He wasted away from a simple cold, if I read correctly.”

Gilgamesh’s vision is dyed in crimson, leaving the mongrel before him a murky, inhuman thing. He has enough presence of mind to open a portal. The Old Soldier's Sack floats into his hand, good as new. Any scrap of entertainment I could glean from your death is marred by your pleasure. So—I won’t play your ugly game.

The mongrel chuckles like a child at play. He doesn't seem to know what the sack is. “You've grown soft in your time here; I expected a knife to the eye.”

Gilgamesh slowly grins back:

“What would you call this, mongrel?”

“Just an old sack.” 

“Well”—Gilgamesh loosens the sack’s drawstring, letting it open wide like a lion's den—“if this is a sack, then enter it!”  

The mongrel’s eyes widen in dawning shock. A vacuum of wind explodes from the sack, snaring him and dragging him inside.

Gilgamesh draws the sack's mouth as tightly as he can, as Kirei struggles futilely inside. “The only one who will die today is you, mongrel. Of that, you can be certain.”

As tempting as it is to simply kill the mongrel now, he doesn't want to risk getting blood on his treasure. No matter. There is a worthy executioner awaiting him.

“As long as you find your life worthless, your wish will never be granted,” Saber says with a voice as cold and harsh as the North wind.

Gilgamesh nudges the squirming sack with his boot. “Next time, I would suggest speaking before the entrapment. It’s more dramatic that way.”

“…Perhaps.” Invisible Air wraps around Excalibur once more. She scowls down at the sack. “I suggest we kill him, before he tears that sack to shreds.”

Gilgamesh shrugs, the rage twisting in his stomach already unwinding; it’s soon replaced by cool neutrality. “Very well; I suggest the Mage-killer. What now?”

“I have fulfilled Rin’s command—I must ensure her safety,” Saber says, and heads for the stairs.

Gilgamesh makes a point of banging the sack against the desk before chucking it into his Treasury for safekeeping. It’s petty revenge for all the trouble this mongrel put him through. Then Gilgamesh grumbles his way back up the stairs.

“Multiple murder attempts, wanton property damage, injuring my vassals and aiming to use my one companion as his butcher? It’s revolting!” he seethes, wondering if he's missed any other crimes. 

Saber appears at the top of the stairs, tense with concern. She’s still in her armor.

“Is Kirei taken care of?” she asks. She steps back, to give him room on the landing.

“I should hope so. In any event—how is Kariya?”

Saber’s smile is soft, hesitant. “He is recovering—that heirloom gem’s Magecraft is quite potent. Sakura and Rin are using it together, in fact.”

Now that Gilgamesh listens closely, he can hear the Tohsaka sisters’ voices, chanting in harmony. It seems closer to a ritual than mere recitation. He knows to stay out of their way for a while, lest he break their concentration.

“And what of the Grail?” It would be foolish to assume everything’s over and done with.

Saber’s eyes widen in realization. “I’m unsure. With luck, Kiritsugu is still there!”

“Oh, dear,” Aoi says, walking over to them from the living room, “I’m sorry that you have to keep running around…”

“That mongrel’s role as antagonist was self-appointed, I assure you. I'm eager to foil his over-complicated scheme.”

“Well, anyway,” Aoi says, holding up both hands proudly, “Rin was right—she fixed my hand in no time!”

Saber’s open fondness is a lovely sight. “I’m glad you recovery went smoothly. What of Kariya?”

Aoi wrings her hands and stares down at the floor. “Well…the bleeding’s stopped, and the wound is closing up. But he might be unconscious for a while…”

It takes Gilgamesh a moment to reply. “…I see. Well—I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Saber sizes Gilgamesh up as thoroughly as a healer. “Will you need mana to make the journey?” she asks without fanfare.

Gilgamesh laughs it off. “I appreciate your concern, but cast it aside. This is but a morning stretch!”

Aoi looks toward the living room, her face still haggard with worry. “I’ll tell the girls where you’re going.” She stares at Gilgamesh with eyes bright with determination. “End this Grail War, please. For all our sakes.”

“Naturally,” Gilgamesh says, and he and Saber depart.

---

Gilgamesh and Saber appear at Ryuudou Temple (which Lancer naturally evacuated beforehand) with little fanfare. The Grail vessel stands at the temple’s entrance, guarding it from any intruders.

But she has a surprising companion: Rider’s Master, who looks very uncomfortable about being near a trained killer’s daughter.

“Rider got bored of waiting,” he explains with a sigh. “And he sensed Lancer was here, so here we are.”

“The civilians will notice if an explosion occurs,” Saber warns.

“Don’t worry about it!” the Grail vessel replies, her smile as bright as sunlight on snow. “Rider and Lancer can handle this! And The Mage’s Association will just cover this up, like they always do.”

Rider’s Master doesn’t seem bothered by that at all. “This’ll get the Clocktower off my back, and Miss Sophia-Ri’s too.” He rakes a hand over his scalp, scowling in disdain. “They’re still hand-wringing and babbling over this, can you believe it?”

Saber and Gilgamesh glance at each other and nod. 

“Where is your father?” Gilgamesh asks the Grail vessel. The Old Soldier’s Sack leaves a portal and thuds to the ground.

“He’s in the temple. Why?”

The sack wriggles again, and Gilgamesh gestures lazily at it. “Rejoice! This is Kirei’s current residence. I recall your father wished to 'see him again'; I have deigned to bring him instead of killing him myself.”

The sack's mouth threatens to open. Rider's Master makes a point to keep his distance—a wise decision.

The Grail vessel giggles and pulls out a walkie-talkie. “Hey, Dad, guess what?” she singsongs into the receiver.

“What?”

“Kirei’s here! Can you see the sack? He’s in there, Archer brought him!”

The Mage-killer dashes out of the temple, his drawn gun shining like ebony in the sunlight. Even from a distance, Gilgamesh can sense his desire to kill Kirei. As soon as the Mage-killer gets close enough to the sack, Gilgamesh frees Kirei and lets them have at it. Neither party seems to notice anybody else around them; the coming grudge-match is all they care about. While spectating that drama would provide some amusement, we have a Grail to destroy.

Gilgamesh turns his gaze to the darkened temple interior before them. “I assume you know where the true Grail lies?”

The Grail vessel looks at the ground with hunted eyes and chews her lip. Ah, so you are awaiting Lancer’s return.

“In a cavern, at the farthest end of the temple,” she replies. “But don’t stuck around too long—if the five of you aren’t back in ten minutes, you’ll get caught in the blast. Better hurry up!”

“Do not presume to lecture me, girl!” Gilgamesh makes a point of pausing at the entrance before heading in.

“Good luck,” Rider’s Master calls, his voice piercing the solemn, stagnant air.

Saber, ever courteous, lifts a hand in acknowledgement.

--- 

Gilgamesh and Saber run abreast of each other, through the mildly interesting temple then into the slimy, dark cavern. (He has traveled in far too many places like this of late. Kirei had terrible, tiresome taste in locales.) In the distance, he can hear the crack of a gunshot, once, twice. Then there's silence. 

Gilgamesh doesn’t expect Lancer to come dashing around the corner, and they narrowly miss bumping into each other. Lancer looks as close to frustrated as his cool head can manage.

“This is no time to dawdle, mongrel,” Gilgamesh snaps, and Lancer takes a respectful step back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, though he doesn’t look concerned.

“Your Master is about to set off explosives,” Saber says. “We came here to aid you!”

Lancer nods in approval. “My Brahamastra couldn’t pierce the container entirely, but it did weaken it a little. In truth, that's a better outcome than expected.”

Gilgamesh looks to Lancer’s spear, unused.

“If you’re wondering why I haven’t used Vashavi Shakti,” Lancer says, “it’s because I fear the Grail will corrode it—and myself. This requires longer-range weapons.”

Gilgamesh sneers and starts walking. “Is that an attempt at thanking us?” he calls over his shoulder.

“…Oh. Yes, that it is.” Lancer’s boots shift against stone. “Shall I inform my Master of your assistance?”

It’s obvious what he actually desires—and it’s quite understandable.

“Please do,” Saber says gently. “She waits at the temple’s entrance. She may need aid.”

Lancer turns to spirit form, returning to his own young Master. A sliver of jealousy pangs in Gilgamesh’s chest; he duly ignores it.

Gilgamesh and Saber’s pace increases in speed as they near the red light at the cavern’s end.

Saber enters first, and removes the wind from her blade in one powerful burst. Gilgamesh takes that as his cue to summon his bow and arrows.

A huge, bowl-like stone structure looms before them, with something glowing like lava inside it. Gilgamesh gets a sickening sensation in his stomach when looking at it, as if he’s staring at a garbage dump on a sweltering midsummer day. It also brings that repulsive Caster to mind. Child-sized explosives have been placed all around the structure, counting down to the end. 

Rider, astride his Gordius Wheel again, waves at them from above the rim. “Oh, good! Maybe this won’t be a waste of time after all!”

“Yes, but we must hurry,” Saber calls, jumping toward the rim of the bowl.

Gilgamesh follows Saber, and with a powerful coil of his legs he launches himself into the air and lands next to her. He takes in the set of her jaw, the way she grips Excalibur like it’s a lifeline.

The Gordius Wheel floats beside them, its shadow invisible in the murky darkness below.

“Behold,” Rider says, gesturing downward with disdain. “This is the Grail we have fought for.”

Gilgamesh looks down his nose at the “bowl’s” contents, and he sneers in disgust. A mass of black mud roils and oozes beneath them, and it smells as rancid as it looks. I was correct in recalling Caster. Even a drop of this foul mud could rot one’s soul—small wonder Lancer avoided it.

“I consider that corruption, if not utter blasphemy,” he says, knocking two arrows and drawing his bow though he’d prefer to look away. “Step aside.”

His muscles thrum as he looses the arrows into the dark depths. There’s a splash, thick and soft. And nothing else happens: the arrows just melted down, vanished into the mud.

“Huh,” Rider says, as if he’s watching paint dry.

“…Hmph. That was merely meant to observe. I can now say with absolute certainty: this is not the Grail of my Treasury. Nor is it a Holy Relic.”

Saber sounds equally offended as she growls “Let’s remove this blight, then.”

To comment on the crushing disappointment lurking behind her words would only distract, so Gilgamesh doesn’t.

Rider hums in thought. “I have another Noble Phantasm that could be useful.”

“We need whatever aid you can offer, Rider,” Saber says, raising Excalibur to the murky heavens. “Please.”

“Very well!”

A gust of wind unspools from Rider’s body, carrying a nostalgic scent with it. In moments, the area is blanketed in an endless expanse of golden sand; dunes rise up like mountains, the air ripples in the heat, and far in the distance one can smell the salt of the ocean.

Gilgamesh tries to ignore the foolish sentiment filling his heart. “Do not waste your army’s time, Rider—all we require is this space.”

Rider snickers. “Oh, is that kindness on your lips, Goldie? May wonders never cease!”

“I will not offer such a boon again, mongrel. Cherish it.” Gilgamesh knocks an arrow, catching a glimpse of gold flecks swirling toward and into Excalibur.

“On the count of three…” Saber says.

It may not be a battle worthy of Kings, but there is something to be said for a grotesque opponent such as this. The mud bubbles and churns like a giant’s innards, threatening to erupt.

“One…”

Muscles strain in Gilgamesh’s arm; he doesn’t dare take his eyes off his target as he hears Excalibur’s beam charging. How many minutes remain? Seven? Five? One?

“Two…”

If the explosions occur before we can escape, what then? Gilgamesh grits his teeth and ignores the throbbing, numbing pain in his arm. I'll ensure that we return from this hovel!

It feels as though, across Fuyuki, Sakura senses his desire. It’s as faint and thin as a wisp of smoke, but her concern for him thrums along their bond, almost painful. 

“Three. EX—CALIBUR!”

A familiar, burning weight settles in his chest, along with a command: Archer, by my second Command Seal—

Elation rises in Gilgamesh’s chest as unleashed mana swells through him. Finally, his true might has returned.

Golden portals erupt behind and above Gilgamesh, firing off volley after volley of swords, in tandem with Excalibur’s blaze of light. It feels…nostalgic, in that way only a familiar tool in your hand can. Would that Sakura could witness this!

The mud boils and surges, as if yearning to submerge them both. But in that brilliant light, beyond color itself, it can only vanish for good.

Rider’s laughter rumbles through the chaos. “Well done, you two!”

The stone container shudders and cracks, huge shards tumbling to the earth. It sounds as loud as a lightning strike and sandstorm all at once. Rider’s world shakes to its very core.

Gilgamesh barely notices. He hasn’t used Gate of Babylon at this capacity for years; now his mana’s paying the price. His vision blurs, and the blue sky above flickers like an old film projector. He can feel his feet tingling with numbness beneath his boots.

He doesn’t feel Saber’s arms around him as she scoops him up, saving him from free-fall at the last second. He’s too close to unconsciousness to register anything else.

All he has time to think before darkness claims him is: What a relief that Sakura cannot see this ridiculous state I’m in.

---

Gilgamesh awakes in his bed at the mansion, lying on his side.

He groans, his muscles sore all the way to his neck. Judging by the light of the rising sun glowing from the window, he was unconscious for only half a day. He breathes a sigh of relief—he was dreading missing an entire week.

Best of all, he’s still corporeal. As such, he’s able to appreciate the warm, gentle fingers brushing back his hair.

The hand's owner is sitting in a chair at his bedside, out of sight due to Gilgamesh’s position. What does that matter? I know that gentleness quite intimately, by now.

“Well, well,” Gilgamesh murmurs, brushing his hand against Kariya’s knuckles. “This is an unexpected delight. You are shirking your duties, mongrel—you should be resting beside me.”

“Ha-ha,” Kariya replies, his breath tickling Gilgamesh’s shoulder. He pulls back his hand, leaving only faint warmth behind. “Don’t go doing more stupid crap like that just to get this treatment. You could’ve…”

Gilgamesh scoffs. “And what of you, fool? Be grateful that Kirei wasn’t willing to dawdle!”

Kariya sighs. “I know, I’m sorry,” he mutters, sounding as though he’s apologized multiple times already. “Still, when I think about what almost happened, I...”

He rolls over to face Kariya, who practically reeks of stress. His back will kill him soon, in that slumped position. His face seems to droop, from his downcast eyes to the hard line of his mouth. In his all-black clothes, he looks as pale as death itself.

“Kariya,” Gilgamesh says softly, before easing upright, reaching out and patting his head. “The King of Heroes does not abandon his vassals due to mere exhaustion.”

Kariya’s hair is soft against Gilgamesh’s fingers, tickling his palm. No lump or scar rasps against his hand. He grins as Kariya leans in to the touch, his expression brightening.

Then Kariya reaches up to touch Gilgamesh’s wrist, his eyes glinting with a familiar emotion. “You need mana, right?”

“Yes,” he replies, as Kariya stands and walks to the bedroom door. It closes and locks without a sound. “Is something the matter?”

“Huh? Nope.” He hasn’t turned around yet, as if unable to look his King in the eye. “It’s just—I saw you were about to fade, when Saber came back.”

“So you were concerned despite yourself, is that it? How amusing."

Kariya drags fingers through his hair, the sunrise casting his hand in amber. “Why wouldn't I be? The Command Seals obviously did a number on you. Then I wake up and see you’re fading!”

Gilgamesh pats the bed, the mattress springs thrumming under his palm. “Come, be seated.”

Kariya finally turns around and does as Gilgamesh asks. He sits with a slight creak, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He clasps and unclasps his hands, the gesture seeming to ground him.

“Actually…there’s something I’d like to ask you, Archer.” The slight smile on his face shows that he isn’t that nervous, which is good.

“If it concerns a fetish, I assure you, I have encountered it before.”

Kariya’s ears burn, but he’s learning to persevere. “Oh, I bet.” He chuckles. “That does make things easier, though. I don't think it's a fetish, just something I’ve wondered about.”

Gilgamesh grins as Kariya turns to look at him, his expression so hopeful and open it feels as if Gilgamesh could reach inside his chest and caress his pounding heart.

“Archer, lately I’ve…been thinking about the clothes you wore in Uruk.” It takes Kariya a moment to continue, as if saying so aloud brings back all the fantasies he’s nourished. “Do—do you mind if—”

Gilgamesh chuckles and props his chin in his hand, smiling at the sweet sincerity. “…How charming. Very well; behold the true attire of the King!”

Kariya moves into a relaxed, legs-folded position on the bed, his eyes wide and attentive.

He doesn’t bother with much fanfare this time, only the briefest swirl of gold. The white and red robe settles on his skin, followed by golden armbands and his favorite necklace and earrings. Each detail fills him with ever-increasing nostalgia, heavy and cloying like perfume. Cast that nonsense aside, for the time being. Pleasure is the goal.

He preens shamelessly, gliding his hand up the thick curve of his hip. “Well, mongrel, is it as you imagined? Caress as much as you desire.”

There isn’t a response at first; black eyes travel up Gilgamesh’s bare feet to his half-exposed chest, before finally meeting his gaze.

“My bewitching body has left you at a loss for words, I see!”

“Oh, ha-ha. That’s not it, and you know it.” Kariya reaches out tentatively, then with purpose, as his fingers touch Gilgamesh’s robed knee.  

“Amazing,” he whispers, his palm arching slightly at the sensation. “It’s linen…real, ancient linen! And it’s still soft…”

Gilgamesh shifts his leg, more to get rid of an itch than push Kariya away. “I should hope so, it’s attire meant for the King. But go on, mongrel, praise me more.”

Kariya grins and lifts his hand from Gilgamesh’s knee to his chest, gently easing him down onto the mattress. It takes a little adjusting, but soon Gilgamesh gets to soak in the sight of Kariya’s flushed face and enthralled fingers taking in each part of him.

“I’m not supposed to move around much, doctor’s orders,” Kariya says with obvious disappointment. “So blood will have to do.”

Gilgamesh reaches for Kariya’s wrist and tugs him gently down. He wants to bury his face in Kariya’s neck, feel that heated pulse flutter against his lips and tongue. He does. When his teeth break the skin, Kariya’s fingers bury in Gilgamesh’s hair as though they’ve never felt those thick strands before. The warmth of their meshed bodies covers them like a soft blanket. 

The blood is almost an afterthought, despite how Gilgamesh’s mind seems to sharpen with each metallic-yet-sweet drop, each savory spark of mana. All that matters is the way Kariya’s so determined to hold him close. 

“I’ve probably said this before,” Kariya murmurs, his breath causing gooseflesh on Gilgamesh’s skin, “but I’m glad you’re safe, Archer.”

Gilgamesh kisses his pale, punctured neck and replies “I need your oath: you will refrain from such impulsive idiocy starting today.”

Kariya’s lips tickle Gilgamesh’s skin when he smiles. “Worrywart.”

Gilgamesh ponders whether or not they should get up or laze about instead. It is the King’s right…

There’s a loud knocking noise, and Kariya stands and gets the door. His movements are casual and relaxed, which is a good sign.

Gilgamesh changes back into his casual attire, feeling a chill. Kariya opens the door just as Gilgamesh’s shirt settles against his skin.

He cranes his head to see the intruder…only to realize it’s Rider, back in his low-quality t-shirt and jeans. It’s as if they didn’t just save Fuyuki only a few hours ago.

“Ah, it’s about time.” Rider turns his head and bellows “Hey, Sakura, guess who’s awakened?”

Gilgamesh scowls as the window rattles ominously. “Are you trying to disturb my Master's rest, mongrel?”

Rider just gives him a good-natured chortle and clap on the shoulder. “Oh, not at all! In fact, your poor Master was determined to sit here until you awoke. She was out cold too, until an hour ago. Her uncle gave her a reprieve just now.”

Kariya rolls his shoulders absentmindedly. “Hopefully Waver, Rin and Sakura aren’t having another Magecraft debate again.”

“Remember 'doctor's orders', Kariya.”

“I’m not running a marathon, relax!”

“Not until I’m certain you’ve fully healed. Until then, your duty is to rest—specifically with me.”

Kariya just chuckles and leaves. 

“You know,” Rider stage-whispers behind his hand to Gilgamesh, “while you were dozing, Saber carried you in her arms all the way from Ryuudou Temple!”

“Did she, now? What a shame that I missed it.” He acts casual, as if being cradled in the arms of a beautiful, stouthearted warrior woman is par for the course. “Is Saber well?”

“Of course! And yet, despite our victory, she still refuses my offers of comradeship and conquering.” Rider throws up his hands in exasperation. “Even a gift of Britain doesn’t sway her!”

“Sweeten the offer with an eternal banquet,” Gilgamesh suggests with a wry grin.

Before Rider can reply, Sakura appears at the door, out of breath and with a comb still clutched in her hand. She hasn't had time (or energy) to change out of her nightgown—really, none of them should be up at this hour. Despite that, seeing her so frazzled and relieved is a charming sight.  

Rider takes his leave, humming as he goes. The disjointed melody winds away into the distance.

Sakura rushes over to the bed, looking ready to hug Gilgamesh—and stops midway through.

“It’s my fault, Archer,” she murmurs, sitting on the bedside chair with a weighty thump. “I shouldn’t have used that Command Seal.” She hangs her head in shame. Her eyes threaten to mist over with tears. 

“What nonsense,” Gilgamesh growls. “You reacted as well as could be expected in a situation like this. And on that note, we were on a time limit.”

“Oh...then I guess it's okay. By the way, the Mage-killer and Illyasviel left after you destroyed the Grail; I don't know where they went.”

From the soft tone of Sakura’s voice, she isn’t sure what to make of that just yet. That’s to be expected; her time with Illyasviel was short, and the Mage-killer hasn’t done much to earn her trust.

“That is unsurprising. Will there be a funeral for that priest?”

Sakura glances out the window. “It looks that way. Waver said the body was…not nice to look at, so I guess he’ll be cremated.”

“Corpses are an unpleasant sight by their very nature,” he says gently. “And if you wish to remain here during the ceremony, I shall gladly accompany you. Funerals are for those grieving.”

“That’s true,” Sakura says, after an awkward pause. She sighs and fidgets with the comb in her hands, twirling in back and forth. “Actually—I feel bad for Father Risei. He’ll never know what happened, and he’s still sick!”

“No doubt they will wait until he is fully recovered; that is the wisest choice.”

Sakura’s eyes look older and sadder than her age would suggest. “Will he get better?” What she means is obvious.

It’s Gilgamesh’s turn to look at the window. The sun is above the trees, casting the leaves in a golden glow. In the distance, he can hear the abrasive wailing of sirens and the bestial rumble of cars. The “fresh air” from outside would make his one companion shudder at its undercurrent of smog. It settles in his lungs, bitter and wretched.

“It is possible,” he replies, keeping his voice light.

“…I see.”

“Has Rider made another Contract with his Master?” he asks.

Sakura nods, sufficiently distracted. “Yes, and Saber and Rin did too! I guess…they like our way of doing things.”

“As well they should.”

Sakura’s laughter sounds a little forced; her eyes are glazed over in thought. She opens her mouth, about to ask something—but a moment later she thinks the better of it. I suspect I know what it is…and now is not the moment for such questions.

“Well,” he says, rising to his feet and grinning down at Sakura, “After breakfast, I shall reward you for your exemplary actions yesterday.”

Sakura blinks in surprise for a moment. Then she smiles with relief at him, sunlight glowing in her hair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Archer! Why after breakfast?”

Gilgamesh chuckles and ignores the weight threatening to settle in his chest. “I thought it obvious—what better way to celebrate a farce’s end than with a delicious meal?”

Chapter Text

Despite how tired Sakura is after yesterday's battle, today's breakfast makes her mouth water: golden, fluffy pancakes with fresh strawberries on top. It’s simple and filling, which Aoi says is what everyone needs right now.

Sakura flicks a glance at Kariya, sitting opposite her at the kitchen table. He looks fine, if tired—he isn’t showing any dizziness or memory loss, the sort of things doctors warn for after hitting your head. But Sakura knows there are other signs she isn’t thinking of.

“Uncle Kariya, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” she asks.

Kariya grunts in acknowledgement before swallowing his sip of coffee. “Positive,” he says with a lazy grin. “I’ll just rest a little if I get too tired. You and Rin really patched me up well!”

“That’s good.” She laughs softly and shakes her head. “But that’s not exactly true, either—my magic circuits are still sore. It’ll take a few days to get better.”

Kariya’s expression softens. “That bad, huh? I’m sorry for causing you trouble…again.”

“Eh? Wait, no, that’s not it!” Sakura makes a placating gesture with her hands. “It’s just that I can’t do that sort of thing all the time!”

“Oh, okay. Got it.”

Sakura focuses on her pancakes again, savoring the buttery taste. She lets her mind wander. Archer wanted to reward her after breakfast, and since he’s already finished his she decides to think it over.

I have enough stuffed animals and clothes…it’d have to be something special. She kicks her legs back and forth, looking up at the whitewashed ceiling. The zoo is closed, since it isn’t spring yet, and so is the water park…

In the back of her head, there’s something she’s trying to ignore. Yesterday, despite the distance between them, she felt Archer’s body begin to fade. And with the Grail really, truly gone, Archer doesn’t have anything to distract him. She’s seen it on his face, when he thinks she isn’t looking—the glazed over eyes and soft frown of boredom.

Even though Archer likes us…he doesn’t like Fuyuki. Not the way I do.

After breakfast, Sakura seeks out Archer. It's not difficult; with Kariya, Rin and Aoi out shopping, there's only three people here. She finds Archer with Saber in the living room, looking over a jigsaw puzzle at the coffee table.

Sakura peers down at the puzzle—it looks like a castle—and watches as Saber runs a finger thoughtfully across the finished part, following the connected lines.

“It hasn’t changed at all…” Saber murmurs, a fond smile on her face.

Archer chuckles, looking very pleased. “Well, what did you expect? Your legend is a beloved one, and mongrels do so love to preserve such things.” He picks up a piece and places it before the unfinished moat, only to scowl and return it to the other unknown pieces. “Hmm, this is rather complicated.”

Before Sakura can ask if she can help, Saber finds the correct piece and proudly adds it to the moat.

Archer perks up slightly. “I deign to praise you, Saber.”

“Um,” Sakura pipes up, and both Kings turn their attention to her. “Archer—you said you wanted to reward me after breakfast, right?”

“That I do,” he says, resting his chin in his hand. “Have you come to a decision?”

“Not really,” she replies, a little sheepish. “I’m sorry…how would you like to reward me?”

Archer blinks slowly at her then leans back on the couch. He toys with a puzzle piece between his fingers. The cardboard looks flimsy in his hand, and Sakura worries he could crush it by accident. But he still holds it gently, even as he thinks her question over.

“With each passing day, you’re growing into a heroine,” he says softly, closing his eyes with a lazy smile. “In my time, that would be rather odd for a girl; the gods and goddesses were the adventurers, while mortals stayed at home.”

Sakura cocks her head to one side. “Goddesses…?”

Archer waves a hand to dismiss the idea. “They aren’t the point. What I mean is this: I wish to play a questing game with you. It’s similar to Hide and Seek; I shall hide, while you count. And then you search for me.”

Sakura leans forward in excitement. “That sounds fun! Where’ll we play?”

Archer grins slyly. “In my Treasury, of course.”

…Huh?

Saber’s eyes widen in surprise. “But—you claimed it to be without end!”

“Did I? Hmm…that’s incorrect. I assure you, there is a bottom—and Sakura and I will be far from it.”

Saber doesn’t give up, though. “How could Sakura search through something so large?”

“I can do it,” Sakura insists, her face growing hot. “Archer wouldn’t tell me about it otherwise!”

The King in question looks pointedly at Saber. “You see? All is well. And if anything goes awry, I shall end the game immediately.”

Saber sighs and gives in, her smile reassuring. “I trust your judgment, Sakura.” Her gaze flicks to Archer. “…And Archer’s as well, I suppose.”

“Ha! ‘You suppose’…that is better than outright distaste, in the end.” Archer finally adds the puzzle piece to the painted river and stands. “Now then, Sakura, shall we begin?”

Sakura nods, her heart swelling with excitement. 

From Archer's expression, she suspects he was hoping this would happen. With a snap of Archer’s fingers, a golden portal opens and they step inside.

---

Archer’s Treasury is amazing.

Of course it is, but she still wasn’t prepared. Sakura breathes in the scents of perfumes and metals, watches the dangling beads and jewels sway from leather cords or silver chains from the ceiling. The reddish-brown floor is warm against her feet, and has a faint smell of salty clay. Iron braziers hang far above her head, holding candles inside nests of glass.

She expected to be surrounded by piles and piles of stuff, hoarded without rhyme or reason. Instead, this room is covered in ornate rugs and pillows—maybe it’s a place to relax in? So he’s been mooching off us, then. Wait, no, he likes the bedroom he and Kariya use.

“Overwhelmed, are you?” Archer asks smugly, before padding through a huge arched doorway. “I suggest you close your eyes and begin counting to twenty.”

Sakura makes a face at him behind his back before doing as he says. “One…two…three…”

As she slowly chants each number, it occurs to her that this place is eerily quiet. Not like yesterday, where Kirei’s presence infested the mansion. No, this is different. It’s a little like being inside a museum in the early hours of the morning, with history staring down at you from all angles.

Or at least, it will, once Sakura finishes counting.

“Seventeen…eighteen…nineteen…twenty!” She cups her hands over the sides of her mouth before yelling “Ready or not, here I come!”

Unsurprisingly, there’s only silence.

Humming a tuneless song, she passes through the huge door and begins her search.

A room full of gems and crystals greets her. The light is almost blinding, as a rainbow of colors splays out across the walls. They’re organized by color: from white diamonds to cherry-red rubies to rainbow opals, the piles reach up to the ceiling. There’s enough space to walk to the next door…but Sakura has to check here first.

With careful steps, she creeps behind each mound, one after the other. She almost trips on a loose amethyst the size of her foot, and braces her arm on the bare wall just in time. She glances down and sees her reflection in the amethyst’s facets. There’s a thousand Sakuras all blinking at once. Each vision is at a different angle, and ripple when she moves.

“Amazing,” she whispers. A thought occurs to her: Archer didn’t give me a time limit, right? So…it’d be okay if I just explored a little.

The gems sparkle and gleam like freshly made candies. Stay here, they seem to say. Come closer, praise us, feel the old magic in our cores.

It’s almost enough to make her stay here. But Sakura remembers that this is a quest, and heroic quests always have temptations. She shakes her head, searches the room thoroughly, and doesn’t find Archer.

“The next room, then,” she says to herself, and leaves through the door straight ahead.

There’s a long hallway instead of another room. Sakura can’t help but feel cramped in the thread-thin path between the walls. Maybe it just feels that way. She holds out her arms like she’s an airplane ready to take off, and finds that her outstretched fingers don’t touch stone. Good, I’m just seeing things. She can see a warm, orange light in the distance, which calms her nerves a little.

She picks up her pace, not wanting to be here longer than she has to.

At the end of the hall, she stands in front of three cedar doors. They’re identical in many ways—the doors are closed, and they have matching gold levers to open them with. But they feel different, somehow: the left door is cold to the touch, and there’s no light peering through the right door. So the middle must be it…

Sakura’s fingers stop just before touching the lever. She draws back her hand and thinks. Standing on tiptoe, she sniffs the air. It smells like—sugar? Icing? Underneath the sweetness is the scent of cake, fresh from the oven.

“Ah-ha,” she says with a grin, “it’s another temptation.” Her mouth waters; the scents grow stronger. “Some of the cakes must be cooling right now…it smells like there’s strawberries too, and chocolate!”

She’s aware that she’s doing the temptation’s job for it, thinking of dessert at a time like this. She can’t help it; the cakes smell so good she can almost taste them. They remind her of the Hyatt’s pastry shop, where she, Kariya and Archer took a break from swimming at the hotel pool. A little taste wouldn’t hurt.

Yes, the delicious scents seem to say. Stay here, eat your fill; you cannot think on an empty stomach.

Sakura frowns and considers pinching her nose shut. I can ask Archer for a cake later!

She settles on the right door, since she still has her ring. After tugging on the lever and stepping back as it rumbles and lifts, she whispers “Gib mir Licht” and steps inside. 

This room isn’t as full-to-bursting as the gem room, but what it holds isn’t any less precious: toys, modern and ancient. Dolls, stuffed animals, Sakura-sized furniture and even some things she doesn’t recognize. She stops in her tracks and stares at it all in wonder.

At Sakura’s feet lies a note in Archer’s spidery handwriting that says: Take one, if it catches your eye.

“One, huh…?” Sakura looks thoughtfully around the room, looking at her choices. They all seem like fun toys—but somehow none of them “catch her eye”, as Archer put it.

“Oh, well.” She shrugs and heads to the next door, off to the right.

But as she does so—

—A yellow ball bounces toward her, one, two, three. She catches it before it hits the ground a fourth time. It's smooth and sturdy in her hands. It smells like rubber, musky and a little salty. She bounces it once, and it sounds like the first note of a birdsong.

“I’m sorry,” she says, gently placing the ball back on the floor. “But I have to go now.”

She takes another step, and a stuffed lion pounces—or rather falls—on her from above. It lands in her arms, and she’s amazed by how soft it is. Its mane tickles her fingers, and its beady eyes gleam brightly in the candlelight. Its fur isn’t matted, and feels like velveteen. It’d make a great edition to her troops, to guard her bed while she sleeps. But she has plenty of stuffed animals for that purpose, and several came from Archer already.

“I’m sorry,” she says, gently placing the stuffed lion back with its siblings. “But I have to go now.”

She takes another step, and a doll rests at her feet.

Obediently, Sakura picks him up. “You’re heavy, you know,” she says, even though he can’t reply.

He’s porcelain, with luxurious blond curls and a cute princely outfit, not a copper button or gold epaulet out of place. She turns him around slowly, watching the red cape sway in the air. His plum-colored eyes look realistic, able to open and shut with the slightest movement. His delicate eyelashes must have taken days to make. He’s the sort of doll anyone would keep under lock and key, to always keep him close by.

“I’m sorry,” she says, gently placing the doll back with his siblings. “But I have to go now.”

The silence that follows chills her skin. But she doesn’t look back. She takes a few more steps toward the door.

Then the toys begin moving. Not in anger, but in yearning: music boxes’ twinkling melodies crash together, toy trains roll on their tracks, dolls cry out for their mama. Stay here, they seem to say. Come closer, play with us, and we can be happy forever.

Sakura’s mind flashes to that time when she asked Archer to stay after the Fourth War. Though he tried to hide it, he seemed so sad, then, as if any answer he gave would be a lie. “I shall do my best to stay,” that’s what he told me. Even now, when he’s obviously getting bored, he’s still doing his best…for my sake.

The disjointed sounds of the begging toys continue, as if proving her point.

Her eyes burn and itch; she wipes away the tears before they can form.

“No,” she murmurs, then louder, louder, until she can almost block out the noise. “Stop it—I can't stay with you!”

The cacophony winds down, like someone taking a long, slow exhale. The silence makes her ears ring and shriek; she bolts for the door at last.

As soon as Sakura passes into another hallway, covered with dangling vines, she finds herself thinking over what happened. It’s the truth—with Rider and Waver visiting, along with Rin’s friends from school, she has playmates in abundance. But…that wasn’t the point, was it?

She rubs her arm, remembering the flicker of pain in Archer’s eyes when Kariya was hurt. Even in the madness of that moment, it's obvious that Archer didn’t want to feel that way. She’s seen enough fragments of his memories to guess why.

Sakura leans against the wall, the warmth of the stone against her hand comforting her. Even though I’m in Archer’s Treasury, he seems so far away. Maybe this is what Enkidu meant…? She’s probably overthinking this, just like after her and Rin’s botched attempt at searching Fuyuki. Archer would agree.

And yet, it feels like now is the best time to figure out what to do about their Contract. 

As soon as she thinks that, she shakes her head and laughs. It’s an ugly, gagging sound that makes her throat hurt. I should just ask him! He shouldn’t be far, now.

With a long sigh, she pushes away from the wall and continues down the hallway. Loneliness threatens to sink into her chest, but she pushes it aside for now.

Another door awaits her, without a golden lever. I’m sure Archer’s wondering what’s taking me so long. She frowns, suspecting that there’s something different about the design that she can’t see. After stepping back a pace, she finally catches it: a carving of a roaring lion sits atop the door, as if guarding the room beyond it. A decoration fit for a King.

She braces her feet and pushes the door with both hands. The wood is smooth and cool against her palms. Her arms quiver with exertion, and her legs threaten to bend and force her to her knees. But she endures.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens with a creak.

After taking a short rest, Sakura enters the room and suspects this is the last hiding place. There’s something else, too—a sense that Archer’s doing this not just as a reward. He’s not trying to make me cry. That’s all on me.

Sakura focuses her attention back on her new surroundings…a dimly-lit room full of pillows as big as Rider. No temptations here: it’s just the sort of place Archer would hide in. 

She jumps in surprise as her feet sink into the “floor”; it’s a maroon rug as huge as the Mion River. She lifts a red silk pillow to get a better look. A complicated pattern that reminds her of a Magic Crest or Command Seal flows across the plush fabric in shades of cream and bronze. We have a rug like this in the living room! But it's not as big.

Letting the pillow plop back onto the floor, she begins her search properly. Like scaling a mountain, she clambers up a tower of pillows by the door. She tenses each time she feels the linen or plumped-up wool threaten to tumble free and take her with it. But the mountain remains steady.

As soon as she reaches the top, she sits and stares at the other pillow-mountains yet unexplored. She’s looking for the glint of a gold earring, or a patch of bronzed skin beneath the rainbow of colors. 

She’s also giving herself time to stop feeling sad about the idea of Archer leaving. Every time she thinks it’s under control, the heavy, chilling pain wells up inside her again. She digs her fingers into her skirt. I knew he'd want to leave someday, Archer and I planned for it! “One year at a time”, that’s what we decided. Now…now I just have to…

She hates the way her eyes begin to burn, the hot, wet trails that feel like brands on her cheeks. Her throat grows clogged with coarse, burning pain, and she hates that too. Trying to stop crying only makes it worse. My head’s starting to hurt…this is stupid! She knows that’s not going to help either. If nothing else, it’s something Rin would say; or Archer, with a fancier way of putting it.

She recalls a memory-dream:

Archer was all alone, lost in a desert. He was only wearing lion skins, and looked like he'd turned wild like Enkidu. But even his long hair couldn't hide his red-rimmed eyes, or the tear-trails covered in grit. But still, he staggered on. Not for the first time, she wanted to reach out and comfort him, the way he does for her. But like always, she could only watch. 

After curling up with her arms around her knees, and letting herself sob quietly, the tears and constricting feeling in her throat begin to disappear. A comfortable, quiet room is the perfect place for a good cry. Even the bravest heroines have moments like this, before they can go forward.      

So Sakura lets herself wallow, the way Kariya or Archer can’t.

After one last sniffle, Sakura wipes her eyes—and sees something move.

The mysterious something is behind the furthest pillow-mountain, tucked away in the corner. It seems like it's in a warm spot, judging by the something’s slow, sleepy movements. It must be Archer!

Sakura clambers down, not minding if she falls anymore. The pillows squash and bow under her feet and hands; near the incline she rolls down the rest of the way, giggling as the world spins and blurs. She lands at the bottom and closes her eyes for a few moments, letting her body reorient.

Once she settles down, she gets to her feet and heads for the furthest mountain.

She decides to be sneaky, practically on all fours as she creeps between each mountain. She stops and feels around now and then, just in case Archer moved while she rested. There’s no luck the first three times, but the fourth…

…He did move! Sakura grins as she nearly trips over something too warm and heavy to be an object.

Archer’s sitting tucked under a multicolored wool quilt; even with his face visible, his coloring blends with his surroundings enough that she could’ve passed him by.

“Found you!” she chants, and the glimmer of pride in Archer’s eyes is a treasure in itself.

Archer eases out of the quilt and mass of cushions with great care, looking like he just woke up. He glides to his feet, and his shadow falls comfortingly over her.

“Well done, Sakura. I was wondering if I should—hmm?” His brows pinch. “Were you weeping just now?”

Sakura starts—she forgot the tearstains wouldn’t just go away when she wiped her eyes. “I’m not crying now though, I’m okay!”

“I can see that. But why were you weeping to begin with?”

Sakura’s skin prickles with embarrassment. “Well, that’s…it wasn’t anybody’s fault.” She struggles to find the right words to say, in order to not make Archer feel guilty. “I was just thinking about yesterday, how Rin and Uncle Kariya and Mother got hurt. And you too! I almost—I almost lost—”

She growls in useless frustration as her heart sinks again. She waits for Archer to tease her, or remind her that everyone’s safe now. But he doesn’t. He simply waits for her to compose herself.

Somehow, she does.

She sighs and looks up at his cool expression. “I’m done, now,” she says, and this time she’s certain of it.

“That was not weak of you,” Archer says, folding his arms over his chest. “On the contrary, that’s to be expected.”

“…Oh. Okay.”

“But there is more to discuss, Sakura.” He strolls back to the door, and even now she has trouble keeping up with his long legs.

“Like what?”

“Did you enjoy our questing game?”

Sakura hops over a stray frilly cushion. “Of course! It was really hard to go past those temptations—will the toys be okay?”

“Oh, yes, they will be quite content, as always." Archer nudges a blanket out of the way with his foot. "Think of the temptations as a little fairy tale magic on your behalf.”

“What if I was scared by them?”

“Then they would cease. And I would rush to your side.” The matter-of-factness in Archer’s tone is soothing.

“Oh, that’s good.”

Archer looks at her expectantly. She stares back at him, not understanding.

“What of the cakes?” he asks, a sly grin on his face.

Sakura ignores her gurgling belly and points an accusing finger at him. “So you did think I’d fall for that one!”

Archer’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. “Of course! But had you entered that room, you would’ve doubtless been disappointed. Only ingredients and cooking items are stocked there.”

Sakura wonders how they cooked food in Archer’s era. It probably took a long time. And didn’t Uncle Kariya say something about bread being sour back then? Yuck!

They walk along in companionable silence. Sakura knows Archer could just snap his fingers and bring them back to the mansion, but it’s obvious there’s one more thing he wants to talk about.

“And now,” Archer says with strange casualness, “regarding your remaining Command Seal.”

Sakura pauses mid-step, and Archer stops as well; her heartbeat picks up. “…What about it?”

“That would be enough to bring you to tears. Surely, you realized that this questing game served another purpose?”

Sakura looks at her remaining Command Seal, how it gleams in the candlelight above. “Yeah, I guessed.”

“Good, that simplifies matters.” There’s a thoughtful pause. “I don’t regret these years by your side, Sakura. Even if this era is still unspeakably ugly…your soul is not.”

She pouts up at him. “You still think so, huh?”

Archer hums in amusement. “We have different tastes in humanity, it seems! Well, Kariya somewhat understands my distaste.” His eyes glaze over in thought. “But in any event—I grow homesick, despite my home being buried far beneath the sands of time. I fear that lingering any longer would…taint our bond.”

Sakura cocks her head to one side. “That could happen?”

“Well, not if Saber had anything to say about it. But apart from that...” Archer looks down at her with surprising fondness. “...You haven’t required my aid for quite some time, now.”

She can’t seem to keep up. “But what about the Grail War?”

“Yes, that did disrupt our pleasant days, didn’t it? Had it not occurred, you and I could have come to this conclusion far sooner.”

“Hmm…so that’s not what you meant before.”

They continue walking. Archer shortens his strides a bit. Sakura keeps thinking about what Archer said, feeling closer and closer to understanding it.

Well, before the 5^th Grail War, I just had everyday things. I learned from my teachers at school, Rin, Archer and Miss Sophia-Ri. I played with my friends, and…

“…Oh! It’s because I’m happy, isn’t it?”

Archer nods contentedly. “When we first met, you were desperate to escape the Worm Pit—you yearned for a protector. And now, here you are, having bested your foes twice over and defended your world. In the end, Fuyuki is your land, not mine.”

Sakura’s heart soars at his words. “Thanks, Archer.” Something fun occurs to her. “Would that make Rin and I queens?”

Archer chuckles. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Oh, but you will need to be responsible rulers! Keep my…misdemeanors in mind.”

“So, no random tournaments, right?” she asks jokingly.

Archer pretends to think it over. “A small exhibition would be feasible.” He grins. “Or you could offer that young chef a job as your personal cook…”

Sakura looks away, to prevent him from seeing the way her cheeks heat up. “No way, Archer!”

“Why ever not? That boy seems quite willing!”

She chases Archer down the halls of his Treasury, his laughter pealing and bouncing against the stone.

---

They’re going to dissolve their Contract in two weeks. It’s a long enough time to enjoy the moments they have left, and a short enough time that they can’t change their minds and delay the inevitable.

Kariya seems to have expected something like this to happen.

“Three years is more than I’d hoped for, really,” he says under his breath, a sad-yet-accepting smile on his face.

“Why is that, Uncle Kariya?” she asks, as they relax in the park together.

“Well, you know how he is.” Kariya checks the gazebo’s bench for wetness before sitting down. “I thought he’d get bored of this place sooner!”

Sakura doesn’t want to be in the way, so whenever it seems like Archer and Kariya need a moment alone she gladly takes her leave.

Sakura thought Saber wouldn’t like the idea of Archer leaving, but she seems content with it.

“Cherish the time you have,” she advises. There’s a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Irisviel and I did the same.”

Sakura knows not to ask about that.

---

To Sakura, the remaining days with Archer are a joyful blur: playing in the park, visiting the library, talking aimlessly for hours, and in general spending time with Archer. He tries to give her fancier things, like traveling around the world, but in the end that doesn’t matter to her. She just wants peaceful days with him.

She does agree to a ride in the Vimana at night. She and the rest of her family sit on the ship’s golden prow and watch the constellations glitter like jewels in the sky. The night breeze is gentle on her skin, and in the moonlight Archer’s calm face is bathed in silver.

Sakura wants to see what it’s like to fly around in the Vimana too, and Archer happily provides. It’s like riding a luxury car and a roller coaster all at once. Gravity still applies, so Sakura gets to sit back and feel the ship purr under her feet as they burst through clouds and zip around Fuyuki twice over. (Archer tries a barrel roll, but Sakura and Kariya’s bellies lurch as soon as the Vimana tilts even slightly.)

Though she keeps waiting for tears to fall, for sadness to come creeping into her heart, it doesn’t happen. Instead, she feels nothing but warm, gentle gratitude.

---

The huge, bubbling clay bowl of hot-pot sits at the kitchen stove, the savory scents of miso broth, noodles filling the kitchen. (More scents are soon to come.)

Hot-pot is meant to be cooked at the table, but since Aoi’s portable gas heater is on its last legs, Kariya has to improvise. As everyone sits at the table, the raw ingredients have already been sliced per the recipe’s instructions, but now it’s a matter of cooking them.

Rider looks like a giant, eager kid as he settles into his seat. “To sample a regional dish is a great delight!”

“It’s delicious, you’ll see,” Rin boasts by Sakura’s side.

“I can’t wait.” Waver smiles lopsidedly.

Sakura takes in the crowded table: Waver and Rider almost take up a whole side, with Rin, Sakura and Archer on the other. Saber is by Aoi at the head of the table, and Kariya will sit on the opposite end. Sakura suspects Archer wanted Kariya to sit close to him.

That makes sense. It’s the last time we’ll be eating together, after all.

“Okay,” Kariya says cheerfully, tying the white apron strings behind his back, “The meat has to go in before everything else. Ladies first!”

Saber eyes the selection on the kitchen counter, looking as Kingly as Archer. “Boiled eggs would taste delicious with that broth.”

Aoi rests her hands on the tabletop; the shadows of her fingers overlap. “I’d like chicken breast, please.”

“Me too, please,” Sakura adds.

Rin doesn’t need to mull it over. “Whatever cooks fastest, please!”

The grown-ups laugh good-naturedly, in that way they do around kids.

“Got it!” Kariya lifts the cutting board and begins easing the raw ingredients into the bowl, humming as he does. Plop. Plop. Plop. The broth hisses like a snake, and the scent grows more savory and pleasant.

“Ah, I see now,” Rider says, somehow managing an indoor voice.

Archer and Rider add beef, Waver vegetables. In it all goes, one after another. Plop. Plop. Plop. The gentle sound of simmering accompanies the leisurely conversation.

Showing fast reflexes, Kariya takes each softened ingredient out of the pot before it falls apart from the heat.

“I don’t have time to make sauce today, unfortunately,” Kariya calls over his shoulder, setting down the cutting board with a clunk. “But you'll live.”

There’s much nodding, agreement and a little bit of pretend chiding. Things Sakura has come to expect. I don’t think Uncle Kariya would’ve said that before. He’s changing…but in a good way.

Then comes tofu cubes, scallions, and last of all wheat noodles. The ritual continues, with Kariya being extra careful not to burn himself. A savory, mouth-watering aroma wafts through the kitchen, making Sakura’s belly growl. She can tell that Archer’s getting hungry too, though of course he doesn’t show it.

Within a few moments, dinner is served, and Kariya takes his place by Archer’s side.

The hot-pot still bubbles at the table’s center, and tonight it tastes even better than usual. Sakura savors every bite: the rich chicken and beef melt in her mouth, the tofu is pleasantly firm, and on and on. The broth and wheat noodles are an earthy compliment to each ingredient. Mother must’ve helped with the broth.

The time after dinner is a pleasant haze. Rin and Waver continue to chat Magecraft and corruption in the Association—until Aoi changes the subject, asking Waver about daily life in Britain. Waver doesn't seem to mind. Saber, Rider and Archer spend a while talking philosophy, which Sakura still can’t follow fully. She and Kariya sit back comfortably and add their voices from time to time.

After a certain point, the atmosphere begins to change.

Rin gets tired, and shakes Archer’s hand solemnly before shuffling off to bed.

Aoi bows politely to him, her hair tumbling over her shoulder. “Thank you, Archer, for keeping Kariya and Sakura safe. It’ll feel strange without you around!”

“With Saber, you will be well cared for,” Archer says before inclining his head in acknowledgement. 

Aoi hugs Sakura briefly before going upstairs. She treasures the lingering warmth. 

Then Waver yawns, and before they leave Rider manages the impossible: he gives Archer a huge, feet-off-the-ground bear hug. (Archer frees himself a moment later.)

“I shall deign to accept it, mongrel—but only once.”

“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment, then!” Rider says with a hearty laugh.

Waver gives Sakura a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping out into the night.

Saber smiles at Archer and dips her head in acknowledgement, and Sakura giggles at Archer’s stunned silence.

“Shall I kiss your hand then, Saber?” Archer asks, once he gets his voice back.

Saber actually laughs, a demure but genuine sound…until she makes a small noise that may or may not be a snort. Surprisingly, Archer ignores it.

“That would require you to bend the knee, King of Heroes,” Saber replies, an amused lilt in her voice. “No doubt you’d find that unbecoming.”

Archer shrugs one shoulder lazily. “Would a handshake suffice?”

Saber’s brows pinch in thought then relax again. “Yes, it would.”

Sakura beams as the two Kings clasp hands with confident smiles. They’ve come a long way from arguing over the smallest thing.

After Saber leaves for her room, only Archer, Kariya and Sakura are left in the foyer. A sleepy silence falls over the house. Moonlight trickles in through the front windows, illuminating the glossy floor in diamond white.

“Let us depart,” Archer says, and Kariya and Sakura nod in agreement.

They leave through the front door and head to the park, strolling there instead of teleporting. It’s a quiet walk—what’s there to say that hasn’t been said?

Sakura watches Archer’s broad shoulders, and how he and Kariya manage to be so close even with Sakura between them. They’ve had practice, I guess. The air is warm again tonight, the first sign of spring. It’s not too hot that Sakura feels sweaty, nor too cold that they’d freeze to death out here. It’s our lucky night!

A few cars roll by, workers coming home early. The lights cast Archer and Kariya’s hair in a warm, orange glow that contrasts with the moonlight.

When they reach the park, Sakura sets up a Bounded Field near the forest as easily as breathing. As the red and blue threads flow and bind together in the air, Archer breaks out the yellow tent they used here during the Fourth War. Seeing it again brings a smile to Sakura’s face; it feels right they sleep in it one more time. It may be a little overboard, but so what?

“Well done, Sakura,” Archer says proudly, gesturing to the Bounded Field. “It feels far less stifling than before.”

“Really?” Sakura still isn’t sure how to tell the difference. “Did you feel that way at the mansion, too?”

“Somewhat.”

Kariya looks down at the grass. “Should we set up a fire, Archer?”

“No, I think not. We shall be abed soon enough.” Archer pats his belly contentedly. “And as always, your hot-pot was very filling. A fitting send-off for the King of Heroes!”

“…Thanks, Archer.”

There’s a lot unsaid in those two words, but Archer seems to understand even if Sakura doesn’t. He grins and slings an arm around Kariya’s shoulder. “You deserve praise for more than that, Kariya.”

“Eh? What else?” Sakura asks, peering up at them curiously.

“The photographs your uncle took of my likeness, for one.”

“Wow, really? That’s great, Uncle Kariya!” Now Sakura has more than just her memories as keepsakes.

Kariya chuckles and rubs his neck bashfully. “I had some film left over, and since I’ve never actually taken a photo of him before…they turned out good, I think.”

“Of course they did. I was your subject.”

Sakura muffles her giggles with a hand. Even though she guessed that remark was coming, it still took her by surprise. She imagines Archer posing dramatically, like a fashion model, and Kariya grumbling that he should tone it down. 

Kariya grins skeptically at Archer. “What if you blinked?”

“That is but a minor detail. In any event, there are many ‘shots’ where I stayed still as requested.”

Sakura yawns, unintentionally stopping Archer and Kariya’s talk. “’M sorry,” she mumbles, her body threatening to droop forward. “I just…feel really tired all of a sudden.”

“Don't apologize, Sakura,” Kariya says quietly, as he scoops her up and carries her to the tent.

“It grows late," Archer adds. "The Contract can wait until morning.”

Nodding is too much effort, so Sakura just hums in agreement. She dimly feels Kariya set her down on the large, comfy bed. It’s as warm as she remembered. Her body sinks into the pillows and blankets just as her mind sinks into sleep.

---

Sakura wakes up the next morning to the bed shifting slightly, and Kariya’s slow, steady breathing rustling her hair. 

The sunlight outside casts the tent in a hot, white glow—it’s past dawn. She can hear birds singing outside, and one’s shadow flaps overhead, already fat with spring seeds. Sakura fidgets a little to get comfortable, and feels light muscles and warm skin against her neck.

Oh no, I slept on Uncle Kariya’s arm—it’s probably all tingly now… With a small groan, Sakura rolls over off of Kariya and her head nearly lands on Archer’s splayed fingers.

He doesn’t seem to notice as he rises from his sitting position. He’s still in his long white nightshirt, and it sways as he moves. The mattress lifts a little with the loss of his weight.

“Archer,” she whispers, “why are you awake?”

“I must depart,” he replies, his voice equally soft. He hasn’t turned to look at her yet. “A moment longer, and your circuits will be injured.”

Sakura slowly, carefully climbs out of bed. “What about Uncle Kariya?”

“We said our farewells last night, while you slept.” Archer’s smile is obvious even from behind. “He said he wished for you to have the honors this morning.”

Sakura nods, though something still bothers her. “Won’t the tent go away with you?”

“True. But Kariya will awaken shortly; I know his habits well.”

Sakura follows Archer out of the tent, and she blinks in surprise as his armor glows to life around him. Then she reconsiders: He wore it when we first met, so it makes sense he’d wear it now.

The dew-laden grass tickles Sakura’s ankles, making her pause and scratch from time to time. She can see Archer’s cape collecting droplets too, but he doesn’t notice. The dewdrops glint on the golden armor like liquid sunlight, and trickle down Archer’s boots.

They stop in the dappled shade of a tree, still within the Bounded Field. She wonders if it’s the same tree she climbed to get away from Zouken. She doubts it.

Archer’s eyes, the color of her Command Seal, look at her with something resembling fondness. “You have a question on your lips, I see. Speak.”

Sakura shifts her weight from foot to foot. One last thing, before he leaves. She thought of it last night, in the lingering mist of a dream.

“May—may I please have a hug, Archer?”

Archer’s eyes widen slightly, and for a nerve-wracking moment Sakura fears he’ll say no. It could make them reconsider, and stretch out their Contract even further. And sometimes, Archer doesn’t seem to know how to touch people. But a hug from Archer is what Sakura wants, more than anything right now.

It’s a selfish wish, one straight from the heart. Archer gave her the chance to do that and to learn the value in it.

Archer’s shoulders tremble. Then he tips his head back and laughs, loud and carefree.

Long ago, the sound scared Sakura. Now she can hear the joy in it, and mirror it.

“Truly,” Archer says, as his laughter dies down, “your requests never cease to be humble in their selfishness! To have asked that at all…my intimidation is lacking. Ah, well. So be it!”

Sakura’s heart soars. “Then…?”    

Archer opens his arms and invites her in.

Tentatively, she wraps her arms around his waist, her head resting against where his belly would be. Even through his cool armor, she can feel the comforting warmth of his body. His left arm curls around her shoulders, and his right hand rests on her head. She wallows in his embrace, the same way she does when Aoi holds her.

“Our time together was quite entertaining,” Archer says, a slight rasp in his voice. “I shall treasure it.”

“I will, too,” she says, hoping he hears her even if her words are muffled. “Thank you so much…!”

Those words aren’t enough. But they’ll have to do.

Archer makes a sound of acknowledgement. He lets her linger a few seconds more before letting go.

Sakura sighs in contentment and steps back a pace; that was more she could’ve hoped for. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Archer replies without hesitation.

Sakura steels herself and slowly holds out her remaining Command Seal. It glows to life like a burning ember, and she cherishes that light one last time.

“By my Command Seal,” she says clearly, “I, Tohsaka Sakura, release Archer from our Contract.”

Golden lights flicker around Archer’s body, starting from his feet. She watches as they swirl up and up, taking his form with them. He grins at her the whole time, so it isn't painful. It doesn’t take long before even his smile disappears. He’s carried away by that light, back to the Throne of Heroes, his role over. 

...It was easier than expected.

She stands there a moment longer, looking at the spot where Archer stood. She closes her eyes and briefly wraps her arms around herself, trying to commit that hug to memory. Then she lets go.

Sakura looks down at her hand; the unmarked skin shocks her. I didn’t even feel the Command Seal leave…maybe that’s a good thing. She smiles and turns back to where Kariya would be.

Just as Archer said, she can see him heading her way, looking well rested. Sakura calls out to him and walks over, still warm inside.

“So Archer’s gone, huh,” Kariya says, a sad smile on his face.

“Yeah.” Sakura takes Kariya’s big hand in hers and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “He seemed happy he stayed with us, though.”

There’s a pause before Kariya replies “Good.”

They walk side by side, back through the park to the Bounded Field. Sakura dissolves it with a simple spell; the strands gleam in the sun before vanishing like ripples in water.

“Where to next, Sakura?”

“Home,” Sakura finds herself saying, instead of calling it the mansion.

That feels right, this morning, as a warm breeze brings the scent of blooming cherry blossoms to the park. It may not feel right tomorrow, or the day after that, but that doesn't matter now. The buildings of Fuyuki, of her and Rin’s land, shine like jewels in the distance, and she wonders if this is how Archer felt about his kingdom.

Sakura and Kariya head back home hand in hand, the promise of a bountiful spring in the air.