Dear Type-Moon,
Please don't sue me for this. I'm just a wee lad.
Chapter 1- Bar Beatdowns and Brilliant Blunders
You know the best part of working for minimum wage at a fast food joint?
The answer's simple. There is no best part. There's absolutely nothing pleasant about working at a fast food place for minimum wage. That is unless you absolutely have to because you need the money, or if you're like me. Money's not a problem for me. I have enough to live on a day to day basis with quite a large sum left over to spend on what I please. Not many can claim to be so lucky.
The reason I work a shitty job is simple. One, I'm extremely bored. It's ironic considering I'm in Japan of all countries. A nation that practically holds the title of most unique in the world. Or weirdest in the world. It all depends on your preference. You'd think getting a job at a burger joint wouldn't exactly spice up someone's life. And you'd be right. I'm still bored as hell. It just gives me something to do besides sit inside with the lights off curled in the fetal position sucking my thumb like an infant.
The second reason I currently am employed at the number one producer of clogged arteries in the world is because it looks good on a resume. By resume I mean the equivalent of a rap sheet for me. I've worked as a janitor, a construction worker, a 'sanitation engineer', and the list goes on. Most were under the table, but it gave me some sort of image in society. Granted the image in question was one of 'minimum-wage loser' but it was still better than 'suspicious introvert foreigner'. It was a necessary step, especially since there's recently been a lot of media coverage about some guy under the alias of 'Mao' indoctrinating teens to commit crimes for him in a city a few hours away.
This is because unfortunately for me he's highly suspected of being a foreigner.
The wonderful people of this city still glare at me like I'm some intruder on their territory. I suppose they've marked it as there's in the same manner a mutt would piss on a fire hydrant to claim ownership. Well, Fuyuki City, Japan would probably be the equivalent to a pitiful rusted up fire hydrant that's a bit dented but some poor low income worker akin to myself got paid to apply a new cherry red coat of paint on it. And then the sad bastard just dumped the whole container on it at once, making a huge mess everywhere.
It almost makes me pity these petty locals who scowl at me because I'm what they'd call a 'gaijin'. To make matters worse I don't exactly fit into their little 'normal' world. My foreign nature isn't just because I'm not Japanese. It's also because I happen to be a magus.
Not the best magus, but passable at least. There's only one branch of the craft that I truly soar in. What is it you ask? Well, for now that's a secret. Maybe I'll tell you later. After you've wined and dined me a bit. I'm completely incapable of using any of the five basic elements. But who cares? It's not like throwing fireballs or casting lightning bolts at the enemy is cool or anything. Ok, maybe I'm a little upset that I can't do that.
At least I have a decent idea of everything else. And by everything else I mean reinforcement magic. Yeah, that's basically it. And I don't even use it like the instructions suggest. Instead I just use it mainly for structural analysis. There's a reason for that of course.
The teacher I had is responsible for me knowing anything about reinforcement. The guy said I'd be pitifully mediocre at anything besides it. I agreed. It got me out of work. By the way, he's the asshole responsible for me currently being in this godforsaken city.
Presently I have one such local giving me the nastiest expression possible as he orders some crappy excuse for food. Here I am just manning the cash register. Exciting. Oh, how the mighty fall.
When my shift ends I bid farewell to my fellow employees. I still don't really remember their names. One's a dark-haired guy; I think his name was Satou or Saduo, something like that. The guy's a devil of a man with how enthused he is at working this shitty job. He puts SpongeBob to shame.
The other's a short chick named Chiha or Chihua. Maybe it's short for Chihuahua? Though she looked Japanese not Mexican. Not sure if that's racist or not. Whatever, they're just random boring people. I suppose I'm a random boring person now too. It's funny how life plays out.
The walk home is dull, so to entertain myself in some fashion I light up a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and begin smoking. It's a bad habit I'd picked up. My manager would fire me if she found out I kept a pack on me while working.
She'd probably also fire me if she knew I came to work drunk most of the time. I didn't really give a shit. It wasn't my fault I lived so close to a convenience store.
Aren't I such a rebel?
Now that I think about it, my stockpile's getting awfully low lately. I'm probably going to have to pay that old guy at the corner a visit in the upcoming day or so. In order to preserve my remaining supply of alcohol an idea entered my head.
I'll simply visit a local bar.
Ah, only two things truly make me happy in this world. Guns and liquor.
Normally this is where it'd be fitting to add the phrase 'Murica' like a proper patriotic redneck. Unfortunately, I'm no longer in the United States, nor am I anywhere near the stereotype of a redneck. I grew up in the suburbs, not some backcountry den of incest and moonshine.
In any case it hardly matters what I'm called. I just am. Nothing more, nothing less.
I enter some type of pub. Glancing at a sign it briefly registered that the name of it started with a 'c'. The 'bar' I entered is something that in Japan you could call a kyabakura. I think. Basically it's a hostess club. Only in name though. Sure it has a hostess who pours drinks and lights cigarettes. She looks only a bit older than I; she's probably a college girl. Maybe older.
It's horrible of me to say but she's kind of plain looking. Maybe a four out of ten. Her hair's a dark brunette and reaches to her lower back. The black apron she's wearing has the name of the bar along with some sort of cat sketching on it. It's a pretty poor drawing, the sort of thing a kid would draw in kindergarten. She looks anxious and stressed. Probably been working a long shift.
The bartender's an older dude with a mustache. He's dressed in the stereotypical bartender garb. Complete with a bowtie. If he had less hair I'd imagine him as the Japanese version of Alfred Pennyworth.
This isn't the first time I've been in this place. In fact I think it's the third or fourth. Which is unusual for me since I tend to only visit a place like this once before moving on to the next one. The owner/current bartender though is pretty reasonable. The hostess is his daughter, and even though I look like an ex-convict they serve me without question. To me that's commendable.
The father-daughter duo that runs this place is definitely ok in my book. Though I still don't know their names. Nor do I care what they are. We'll just call them old mustache geezer and shitty cat drawing girl. That's too long. How about OMG and SCDG. Yay! Text lingo! I'm just as savvy as all the other kids these days. 'Oh my God'? No that's too easy. 'Omnipotent mutated gonorrhea' and 'sexually confused degenerate gorilla'. Yeah that works.
I take a seat at a bar stool and tell OMG to serve me whatever he's got. Since I'm bored and tired I'm not exactly picky. He simply nods in understanding before giving a small smile and grabbing a random bottle. SCDG is dealing with the other customers. Unfortunately for her they're not what you'd call regulars. There are four of them. All give off bad vibes. I can almost taste the negative aura they give off. You don't need to be a wizard to feel it. Just observant. The entire group is loud and obnoxious. I pity the woman serving them.
They're making awful jokes at her. Not in the crude sexual manner. No, way worse. The cheesy pick up line type of joke that isn't disturbing, just disgusting. Though if I'm right about these guys as soon as they're drunk the dumb jokes will escalate horribly.
I calmly sip the glass of bourbon I've been poured. That's another plus of this place; it's pretty diverse in the alcohol it carries. As I set down the glass I already notice something's up. I feel one of them approach me. It takes a lot to stop myself from tensing up at his arrival. He sits down at the stool next to me.
The dipshit has this huge ass smirk on his face. I can already tell I'm not going to hit it off with the guy. I look at OMG. His face is pretty tense right now. With a quick nod in the direction of that bottle of bourbon he starts to refill my glass. As he tries to take the bottle away I stop him.
He leaves the bottle in front of me.
Surprisingly the goon next to me hasn't made a move yet. He's still got that idiotic expression on his face. It goes well with his cue ball of a head.
"You're gonna buy me a drink."
I gulp down the glass of alcohol, ignoring him completely. This doesn't sit well with him.
"Hey! Did you hear me? You're buying me a drink punk!"
Well that escalated quickly.
I suppose he finds no need for small talk considering he thinks he's the tough guy here who could kill me with his bare hands. Ignorance is bliss. He continues to stare at me after shouting. Then he starts glaring. OMG's giving me a concerned look. He's probably worried that I'll get hurt. Or maybe he just doesn't want a fight.
"Did you hear me?!"
Cue ball shouts again. He's clearly a bit tipsy.
"How about I just give you some of what's in the bottle here. No point in wasting good booze and it's not like I'll drink it all."
I state this without any emotion.
He glances at the bottle before snorting in displeasure.
"I'm not drinking that shit. You're gonna buy me another bottle."
"Are you sure? Maybe you should just give it a try. It's not bad."
He starts cackling. It's pathetic. I've already decided how to handle this guy. I look at OMG and give him a look of apology. I toy with the idea of reinforcing the bottle with prana. That'd probably kill him though. Which would be a problem for the mustachioed guy in front of me.
When cue ball finishes the cackling I take a long swig out of the bottle.
"Where's that drink?!"
He almost screams this.
"Well aren't you a persistent fuck. I offered the bourbon. I'm not wasting my cash on anything else just for some idiot I don't know. Go polish your head dipshit, that way you can serve humanity in the form of a mirror. It'd be more useful than what you currently are doing."
He gasps at me in shock. It doesn't take long for it to turn to fury.
The moron pushes the stool out from under him and stands up.
At this point his buddies glance over to the scene and start shouting for him to beat me senseless. He clenches his fists. Then he throws a punch. I grab his fist without looking at him.
"Eh?"
That's the only response he makes. Then I reel him in like a hooked fish and smash his face into the counter.
As he crumbles in a kneeling position, forehead on the tabletop, I smash the bottle of bourbon into the back of his head and he collapses. The bottle doesn't even shatter and he's out like a light.
It took less than ten seconds.
I didn't even get off the stool.
OMG's staring at me incredulously.
So are cue ball's comrades and the hostess.
I take another swig out of the bottle. It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Then his buddies make a mistake.
They start getting up. Then they start approaching me.
They didn't expect some punk like me wearing the attire of a fast food employee to be able to deck their friend. Now that it happened they feel it necessary to make me pay.
How childish. Coming from me that's a testament as to how low these idiots are.
I continue to simply sit at the bar sipping out of the bottle I just used to take out cue ball. For a brief moment I make eye contact with OMG. Worry has again made an appearance on his face. From behind me I hear his daughter attempt to calm down the three approaching me. The continuous sound of their footsteps tells me her attempt is unsuccessful. Then one of them shouts at her to shut up and I hear the sound of a hard impact followed by a yelp. I can tell one of them slapped her. Mr. Mustache in front of me looks pissed. Yet he still sits behind the bar. He almost looks ashamed to do so. I don't know why.
Both he and I know he'd be no match for a three on one fight.
The trio continues to walk towards me. They attempt to do something akin to a pincer maneuver, with one on each side of me and the last one directly behind me. I continue drinking, not even glancing their way. The one on the right makes the first move.
He's one of those idiots who have most of their face tattooed. It's just screaming unemployment.
He grabs my glass and tosses it at the wall. The glass shatters everywhere.
Then the one on the left gets in my face. He's your average looking guy, pretty bland looking to be honest. Though the way he flexes his muscles tells me he finds himself intimidating.
"You should have just bought him a drink gaijin. You've got two options now. Apologize and beg for mercy and I promise we won't cause any permanent damage. Or don't, and then we can enjoy beating you to a bloody pulp."
What is he, a thug from a 70s action flick?
He takes the bottle away from me and tosses it to the guy behind me. I hear the third one chug down the alcohol. Our mustachioed bartender finds it appropriate to speak up at this time.
"Leave him alone. You three need to take your friend and leave."
Face tattoo speaks up.
"Or what? Cut the shit old man you can't do anything. Shut your mouth or you'll be next."
That effectively silences him. I release a deep sigh while rubbing my face. At that moment the one behind me smashes the bottle into the back of my head. The glass shatters and blood starts to flow from the new wound. For a brief flash I feel pain. Then it quickly disappears when overwhelming fury enters my mind. Without thinking I access my magical circuits. Activating the flow of prana is like firing a revolver off in my mind. The hammer hits the firing pin and bang. With minimal effort I reinforce my body.
My fist smashes into the tattooed one.
I hear his nose break, his teeth shatter, and his jaw snap.
With one punch I've done damage on the same level as someone using brass knuckles.
He crumples to the ground like the first goon I took out with the bottle. It's a one-hit K.O. The sheer force of the impact stuns everyone in the room except me.
I slowly rise from the bar stool and turn to glare at the remaining two. Blood still leaks from the gash on the back of my head. I'd worry about it if I had the time.
It could have been worse. Good thing my head's harder than it looks.
The guy who hit me with the bottle is the biggest of the group but he's still about an inch shorter than me. He panics and trips over his own feet, making him fall backwards on his ass.
The pseudo-intimidator who was on my left reaches into his pocket and pulls out a switchblade.
Part of me wants to take him on barehanded. It'd probably be more satisfying with the amount of damage I'd do to him. But I'm not so reckless as to risk it.
I glance over to where SCDG was standing in the corner looking upon the scene with fear in her eyes. I couldn't tell if it was fear for her own safety, her father's, or for mine. Maybe it was fear of me. A welt started to materialize on her face where she'd been struck.
It'd be unnecessary to prolong this scuffle anymore. Plus there's the chance the bartender or his daughter could be hurt badly.
Taking this into consideration I bend down while watching the two goons closely. Both appear scared of me, but the one with the knife looks about ready to strike out of anger.
It seems he needs a little persuasion to get lost. From gap between my ankle and my pants' leg I appear to pull out a firearm. In reality I've just done something far more "magical" than just pulling a snub-nosed revolver out of an ankle holster.
Unfortunately for me, the current conditions lead to something less than perfect. The gun is basically an unfinished mess. It's without a hammer. When it's supposed to have one. The cylinder's also not really connected to the frame, meaning I have to hold it in place in a convincing enough manner that these goons will stay back. Basically I'm putting on a big farce right now. Let's see how convincing of an actor I am.
"Look who brought a knife to a gunfight. Playtime's over kiddies. This is a Charter Arms Bulldog, Model 74421. It's got a two and a half inch barrel with a five-round cylinder that's chambered to fire .44special ammunition." I wiggle the gun at them. Dangerously waving it around and causing them to tense in response.
"You've got no idea how much of a bitch it is to sneak this around every day. There's been at least three occasions where I almost pissed myself thinking my boss noticed it. You see, it would have cost me my job, as shitty and useless of a job it may be." I'm talking way too much. Putting way too many details into why I have this gun. I can't help it. I'm nervous. If I'm not convincing I could have the Mages' Association on my ass.
"Unfortunately for you two, I'm a paranoid guy, so paranoid that I risk my career every day just to carry this thing. It's almost like a security blanket, I don't go anywhere without it. Well except the airport, that's kind of why I avoid those. I'd hate to get a full cavity search." I grin at this. A sweat drop starts rolling down the side of my face. Please let this work.
There's a long drawn out period of silence. We're all tense. Armed and ready for violence. It's not a pleasant period. They're probably pondering whether or not I'm serious. As well as if they'd be capable of taking me on if I am.
Then I get a positive sign. The one who tripped starts scrambling backwards. It reminds me of a cockroach scurrying away. It tells me that my bluff worked. The one with the knife just stares at me. His mouth opens and closes like a dying fish. OMG and SCDG have similar reactions. Good, I captured their attention and sold my story. Now to take this all the way.
"So, uh, now would be a good time for you two to grab your two potato sack like friends and skedaddle on out of here, because I happen to be an American, and we just love to take advantage of our Second Amendment rights."
I say this last part with a sarcastic accent in English, but with my eyes I make the point to the two that they should be taking this very seriously.
It's enough for them to understand to get the hell out.
The knife guy practically drops his knife as he rushes to grab the guy I punched. The one who hit me follows his lead and gets up to grab the one I bonked with the bottle. They then run out of the pub with their tails between their legs. The lie ended up paying off.
Who ever said honesty was the best policy clearly never had to deal with a violent situation.
I uttered a sigh of relief before slipping the incomplete handgun into my pants pocket. That could have ended worse than it did. A lot worse.
Though it does open up a whole new set of problems. The main one being how to dump the gun. Maybe I can toss it in the sea. Nah, too much work. I'll just bury it in the couch cushions. Nothing gets rediscovered there. The other problem is the two witnesses. They could get me a prison sentence if they squeal on me.
I gave a glance towards the owner and his daughter, she was crying into his chest while he was simply stroking her hair. He gave me a look of gratitude. I started to leave but stopped when he spoke. "Your head. It's bleeding."
I merely nodded in response. His daughter stopped crying, wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked at me as well. The concern in their eyes caught me off guard. It made me feel like I needed to respond.
"It's nothing. I'll be ok." The owner had already started to shake his head the second I opened my mouth.
"You need a doctor. Maybe even the hospital." I snorted at this. If only he knew.
"I'm sure you can understand why that's not going to happen." They shared a look before looking at me and nodding. I nodded as well. Then I turned away, preparing to leave.
"Wait!" This time it was the girl who spoke up. I was beginning to get annoyed so I started to tap my foot impatiently. "What?" I snapped at her a little and my change of tone stunned her for a moment. But only a moment.
"At least let me put some ice on it or something. In order to avoid a concussion." Their concern for me was confusing, but entertaining to a degree. So I just nodded. Then they started to work on a makeshift icepack. A towel that would have normally been used to wipe down the bar, and ice cubes typically used for drinks. The girl walked to me with the pack in hand. She was hesitant in her approach. Like a deer approaching a sleeping wolf. I grinned at her to try and calm her. "Don't worry, I don't bite."
She smiled a little at this. Her father chuckled from the bar. She personally placed the icepack on my head, taking my hand in her own and placing it where it would firmly hold the pack to my wound. I nodded my thanks to her.
On closer inspection I conceded that I might have judged her too harshly. She was at least a five or six out of ten. Maybe a seven without the tear stains. Though I knew more than a few guys who would have preferred her with them. Sick fucks.
"I'll get the towel back to you in a few days." The father again shook his head.
"It's just a towel. Keep it. We owe you for what you did."
Now it was my turn to shake my head. "I was only defending myself. If anything I escalated it by being here."
They were silent. But not for long. "Maybe, maybe not." It was the daughter who spoke. I didn't expect that response. I didn't know how to respond. So I just nodded.
"They may come back. I'd suggest getting a gun yourself."
The father snorted at this. "A gun? In Japan? That's illegal."
I laughed at this. "Doesn't stop me from carrying one."
He smiled at this. "Fair point."
We stood in silence before I finally waved my goodbyes and left. They thanked me all the way out. I didn't understand why.
On the bright side I doubted I would be ratted on to the police. So I didn't have to deal with questions as to why I had a firearm. That was the only thanks I needed. Legal issues are always an inconvenience. The best course of action is to avoid them. Trust me, I know.
Continuing the journey home I lamented that I probably wouldn't ever be able to go back to that pub.
From the pocket of my work uniform I pull out my MP3. Slipping in the earbuds I select an Eminem song and walk with one hand on the icepack and one in my pocket. The sun's starting to go down so I hurry as quickly as possible to get home. After a fifteen minute walk I find myself in front of it.
It's a two story building, well three stories if you count the attic. It's obviously not of Japanese design. There's a one car garage attached to the first floor on the left. It's built like a fort, made from mortar and bricks with only a few windows on the second floor. I could understand how people saw it as intimidating. It stood out even among the European styled housing in this area. Unlike a home it didn't feel inviting. It was necessary, not built for comfort. A safe house.
My key enters the door's lock and without hesitating I turn it. Entering my humble abode and locking the door shut behind me, I find myself disappointed at the sight of its contents. For what reason, I do not know. I've been living here for the past three or so years. Yet still this place isn't exactly home for me. I walk to the kitchen located straight across from the front door. The house itself is only a one bedroom, one bath, with three floors. Though I was lucky enough to have a bathroom with a shower and a bathtub, the toilet is for some reason in its own side room. A room with only the toilet in it, it's like a small closet really. I don't even question it.
Next to the toilet room is a slightly larger one that houses the washer and dryer. Then there's the bedroom which only contains a queen sized bed, a desk, a large bookshelf, and my dresser. All of this is located on the second floor. The third floor is basically just an attic, which is another plus in my book. I store a lot of the things that could be controversial if found by someone up there. Hell even the first floor isn't that bad considering the kitchen's easily accessible and spacious enough to shelter a good sized refrigerator, a sink against the wall, a stove and oven set, and a small freezer with a microwave set on top of it.
The issue lies in the fact that the kitchen has nothing to separate it from the rest of the ground floor. No walls, no counters, nothing. So when I enter my house there's no difference between the wooden tiles of the living room, the dining room, or the kitchen. Which for some reason irks me, then again maybe I'm just being picky. The living room is basically just a small television on a stand, with a laptop on a shelf of the stand, and a stereo set on a smaller nightstand next to it. The dining room is even more pitiful, basically it only being a small wooden table with two chairs across from each other. It's depressing but those are the only two chairs I own, which is really irritating considering I have to move them around when I want to not sit at the table. I keep forgetting to visit some sort of furniture store in the shopping district and purchase another pair.
When I think about it, this place could be nice if I spent the time and money to add furnishings to it. Really it's just empty now. I guess I don't feel like lying to myself and making this into something it's not.
In the kitchen I toss the ice in the icepack into the sink. The towel is folded up and placed on the sink's counter. That done, I open up the fridge and pull out a bottle of wine. Considering that I don't own any wine glasses, or any glasses for that matter, I guzzle down a swig from the bottle itself. Wiping my mouth on the sleeve of the black sweater I'm wearing, I put the bottle back. Then I pull the pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of work slacks. Opening the pack I'm disappointed to find that there's only own remaining now. Yet again sighing I place the last cigarette in my mouth; toss the container in a small trashcan in the corner, and pull out one of those cheap plastic lighters you would buy at a convenience store for a buck. Or something like a hundred yen here.
I light the cigarette up and take a long drag. The slight buzz mixes with the small one from drinking the cheap wine and relaxes my nerves a little. It dulls the headache I have too. Bottles to the brain are never a good thing to experience. It'll probably heal on its own though. It'll have to.
I go up to the stereo set, it's one of those mildly expensive types with a digital playlist that can connect to an MP3 player and play the songs downloaded onto it. I usually just leave the MP3 player connected to the thing. Scrolling through the selection screen I pick a Limp Bizkit song. Ironic choice in regards to the previous selection of Eminem.
Nothing makes me feel better after a bad day more than tobacco, alcohol, rap and rock.
I sat down at one of the chairs near the dining table and put the cigarette out in the ashtray I had placed on the table's center. The only thing of noticeable interest on this floor of the house was the antique knife set in a display case in front of me right next to the ashtray. It was the only thing in the room that had an inkling of magical energy surrounding it, and the only thing that probably had some sort of worth to it. It was amusing to think that it was also the only thing I hadn't acquired legitimately. Shows what type of person I am.
It was a different time. A different life.
I had stuck the playlist on shuffle so after Limp Bizkit ended a song from Warrant came on. If I remembered correctly it was called 'Down Boys'. I smiled slightly at the more upbeat tone. "Where do the Down Boys go?" I posed the question to no one in particular. Truth be told, I could consider myself a so called 'down boy'. Not in the sense that the song was talking about, this was supposedly referring to 'down boys' in regards to men who like performing oral sex on women. I thought of the term 'down boys' as referring almost too lost souls. People with nowhere to go basically. It's basically a depressing idea I put on a mainly upbeat song.
Days like these made me miss my Teacher more than anything. He as dead of course. It's been a few years since his death. It's the reason I'm in Japan. The reason I'm bored. I really wished he was alive. Or I at least wished that I could pretend he was alive still, that there was a chance. A chance that the sonofabitch was still out in the world kicking ass and taking names. But I couldn't pretend. I'd seen him get iced in front of me.
Huh, it's funny. 'Iced.' We use such a term for killing someone. Shows how cold an act it can be to end a life. Not personal. Just business. That's what they say. Wasn't it the same for me? I did things based on profit or pleasure. Still did nowadays. My Teacher knew how the life was like. He knew what he was getting into. But that didn't make me feel better, and it wouldn't make his children, or his widow feel any better either.
I wasn't even able to go to the funeral. Partly because I was the reason for it. Ah well, I'm not good at goodbyes anyway. That bastard wouldn't have wanted me to mourn. Doesn't stop me from doing it though. At least not on days like this.
The stereo was playing a song I didn't recognize so it must have been one I'd downloaded randomly just for the hell of it, or I'd just forgotten it. With my thought process both seemed plausible.
Walking back to the kitchen I took a TV dinner out of the freezer and stuck it in the microwave to cook. While I waited I leaned against the wall and let my thoughts wander.
This city had labeled me an outsider. Just another foreigner. Even though I was more eccentric than the average guy, I was still labeled as a run of the mill foreigner. I understood that most people who saw me considered me a slob. This was displeasing the first year or so then I got over it. My lifestyle had become the basic saga of a college fraternity kid.
My hair was long and wavy, to the point that it went past my shoulders. At best it could be considered messy, at worst it was a disaster. I hardly combed it, most of the time I'd just wake up and put on some clothes to go about my business without even worrying about my hair. It pissed my boss of to no end. She would have fired me a long time ago if not for my natural charm. And my ability to blackmail her with that security tape. My hair was a light color which was irritating because it set me out among the locals even more. The color would probably be considered dirty blond, borderline brown. I had stubble all along my jawline and around my mouth since I kept forgetting to shave. This also pissed off my boss. What a bitch. Maybe she's learned her lesson not to do certain things in certain public places.
My eyes were a golden brown, almost like honey. Several gray bags were underneath them on account of me being prone to staying up late till the wee hours of the morning. I think it was starting to get to me, but I couldn't exactly help it. Insomnia's a bitch. My skin color was a slight tan, mainly from being in the sun for hours on end. At one point I'd looked like a lobster I was so red. Glad that at least changed. I had a decent muscular build thanks to the training I'd done with my teacher and the fact that I kept up the exercise regime he'd focused on. Though I did relax it in many ways. As in the schedule became "When I get to it."
I stood around 5'11 which was roughly average for a male, and important considering the average height of a Japanese male was only around 5'9 or so. If I'd been taller I would have stood out even more. Granted I still stood out a lot. Just not as much as I could. Thanks to all that exercise I weighed somewhere along the line of 170 pounds, most of that being muscle. My weight was also partially because I ate little throughout the day, almost to the point of fasting. Truth be told I just lacked an appetite. I haven't been hungry for years.
Besides the work uniform most of the clothes I wore covered up as much as my form as possible. My wardrobe didn't include any shorts, only jeans and a pair of slacks. I only owned three t-shirts, most of my shirts were either long sleeved, or button up. I usually wore one of my hoodies over all this or else my one leather jacket that really didn't fit me whatsoever. At this point it basically was a trench coat for me. Probably because it was my Teacher's before it was mine.
He had been a huge man, standing at close to 6'8 and weighing somewhere in the ballpark of 250 pounds. All of it being muscle. His name had been Richard Wright, though I assumed that was nothing but an alias. I assumed he'd come up with the name with inspiration coming either from the African-American author or else the musician who'd been with Pink Floyd. Maybe it was a combination of the two. He liked the Wright brothers too. Always wanted to get his pilot's license and buy a plane for himself. I even told the dipshit I'd be his copilot. Guess that wasn't going to ever happen.
My teacher had been an African-American himself; he'd served as a U.S. Navy Seal. Quite a distinguishing career in my opinion. Unfortunately his career after being discharged wasn't anywhere near as distinguished. I should know. It's the only reason a guy like me met a guy like him. After that, the rest is history.
He was an asshole but he was the smartest person I'd ever met. That's why I referred to him as Teacher. I'd had plenty of teachers in my life. Most just told you how things are. He actually showed me. That's one of the reasons why I missed him.
The strangest thing about my teacher had been the fact that he was a magus like me. Boy was that a terrifying day when he stumbled across me accessing my magic circuits. I thought for sure I'd have to do some Men in Black style mind wipe on his ass. Instead I got a lecture about how I needed to conceal my identity better or else the Association would hunt me down. I didn't realize he was a mage as well until around ten minutes into the lecture.
He'd been born one and had ended up pursuing a military career even with that background. I remember the stories he told me about his past. His family basically disowned him for his life choices. Though he didn't really care. I kind of respected that.
This house and most of the things in it was actually his, it was basically his last gift to me. I appreciated everything he did for me, even though I didn't necessarily show it, and I knew I'd never be able to repay him. The thought depressed me.
The microwave uttered a tired set of beeps that led me to believe that I'd need to replace it eventually. Eh, I'd do it later. I pulled the dinner out of it and took a plastic fork from the box containing them that was atop the fridge. The food was unappealing but since it was a necessity I forced it down. It was some type of meat patty along with dehydrated mashed potatoes and corn. The important factor was the price of it being really cheap. I suppose that's the only way they could sell them, since the meat was like cardboard and the potatoes like sawdust. The corn was ok. For frozen corn. Still at least it was food, no reason for me to complain. Though I still did it anyway, because I was still that spoiled brat who'd run away from his family. That was something I could never escape from.
I took a soda out of the fridge and chugged it down to wash away the remainder of the plastic meal. Then I tossed it all into the trashcan in the corner where the empty pack of cigarettes lay. I took a glance at my wristwatch and found that it was a little after six in the evening. Considering I had nothing better to do I figured I might as well restock my supply of tobacco. I should have done it before. I quickly changed into a dark gray t-shirt, blue jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie. I slip a pocketknife into my, well, pocket.
The sun was beginning to set so I should hurry to the convenience store I bought them from. I left the house, turning off the stereo and locking the door behind me. Walking down the streets alone was almost unnerving. The news had been full of suspicious murders occurring. The police had no suspects. Hence it being suspicious. I understood that much.
Fuyuki City had been the site of the last Holy Grail War. That's why my teacher picked it as my final hiding place. I'd make no sense for someone like me to hide in a place with such a background. Sort of like hiding in plain sight. One of the first things my teacher had taught me was how to hide my magical presence, and that helped as well. I didn't know the situation surrounding the war itself. It didn't concern me so I didn't really care about it. All I knew was that it had been an utter letdown, and that was probably a good thing. The winner had chosen a simple wish. Or at least I assume he or she did considering nothing major happened after their victory. They'd been the Master of Saber so it was obvious how they won. No one knew what they wished for, and afterwards they left Japan.
My teacher had joked about it. "Listen, if Saber's Master was a girl she wished for true love and lived happily ever after with her prince." He said this sarcastically, he was obviously mocking the notion. "But if the she was a he, well then he either wished for a woman or multiple women." He broke into a loud laughing fit after saying this. I never got the humor behind it, but that's how he often told jokes. I assumed it was funny due to how the ironic notion of a male or female victor wishing for roughly the same thing but in different ways, with the male stereotypically focusing more on lust than love.
Then he shot that theory down when he abruptly stopped laughing and put on his best 'wise teacher' face. "Remember you do not define yourself. You are defined by those around you. Especially those you love, their love for you defines what you are." At this I busted out laughing. I hardly believed in a notion of 'love' and I was pretty sure he'd just stolen that quote from someone else." He chastised me for hours. *Sigh. I hardly understood the man half the time.
Entering the convenience store I walk up to the counter and ask for a pack of cigarettes in Japanese. It's my fourth language and another useful lesson from my teacher. English, Italian, and Latin are the other three. Family tradition and all that.
The owner doesn't even hesitate when he notices that it's me. We've been through this same song and dance dozens of times. I hand him the 500 yen note and he returns the change to me along with the cigarettes. The entire exchange is done without a word on his part, just a few grunts of acknowledgment as I say goodbye. That's how most of my interactions go down with people around here. I believe the exact label they've given me would be the equivalent of 'cocky douchebag foreign slob'. I might be missing a few choice words. I suppose it can't really be helped. I don't exactly act like an approachable guy considering how I usually just shut myself indoors, only exiting the house for my daily run, work, or these types of errands.
By now it's dark out. Walking back home is a boring tedious thing. Hardly anyone's out at this time. Pulling my pocketknife out of my pocket I cut the plastic wrap off the pack of cigarettes. I quickly toss it in a trashcan while continuing my walk home. A cigarette is removed, set in my mouth, and lit. My journey back home contains only smoking and silence.
Finally reaching my house I unlock the door yet again and step inside, not even bothering to flick the light switch on as I do so. I locked the door behind me and took a seat at the dining table. I extinguish the cigarette in the ashtray. My gaze happened upon the antique knife. It and the ashtray were the only things on the table. I reached out and grabbed it. Immediately I felt the surge of energy surrounding it. Whatever it was it had been important in some way.
It was just a simple crude blade. Rusted from centuries of existence. It had worked as a decent shank though. I was surprised the handle was even still intact. I knew it had been excavated somewhere in Italy, a dig team had found it at one of their sites.
I pressed my finger against the blade expecting it to be dull. Instead I was surprised to feel a sharp prick as it sliced open the skin of my index finger. Blood started to trickle out of the wound. It was stupid of me to do that. I'd used it as a makeshift weapon years ago, of course it was somehow still sharp. I was an idiot to expect a change to have happened, for it to somehow have become a normal relic of the past. 'Great' I thought 'Now I'm going to need a tetanus shot.' Then I mentally face palmed when I realized how idiotic that type of thought had been.
I then applied the most advanced method of medical treatment known to man. I sucked on my finger.
The old blade in my other hand started to glow ever so slightly. Then it started to become hot to the touch. I panicked and on reflex I dropped it to the floor to avoid burning myself. The object started to glow brighter. My eyes had to adjust from the sudden exposure. The remnants of my blood on the blade started to wriggle drop by drop, inching across the floor like some type of worm. The droplets formed something akin to a crude circle. Strange runes formed in the center as my blood continued to crawl. Both inside and out.
The light was overpowering everything, almost whiting out the surrounding environment. Then, it abruptly vanished. The circle of blood seemed to evaporate.
In its place stood a short figure.
It was giving off a powerful magical aura.
My hand started burning and looking down I noticed some type of marking had appeared on it. My eyes had to again adjust to the sudden darkness before I could tell any further details.
When they finally did so I saw that the marking appeared to be a bundle of wood with an axe sticking out of the side. I recalled the Roosevelt dime and how a similar image was on the back of it. I believe the term for it was 'fasces'. A laurel wreath, divided into two sections, surrounded it.
Looking up I realized the figure that had appeared was that of a girl's. She had blonde hair that was tied up in some type of bun with a red ribbon. The clothing she wore was strange to say the least. She was wearing a red and white dress with gold trim. The red matched the red of a rose, while the white was like that of pure snow. On her shoulders she had what seemed to be epaulettes. For shoes she had high heels. It seemed she also had some type of armored shin guard on her legs too. The most absurd part of her attire was the fact that her dress had see-through sections that showed a portion of her back and rear.
She slowly turned around to face me. Her eyes were a bright shade of green. Her expression was questioning but the smile on her lips could almost be called an arrogant smirk. Looking at her hair again I realized she had something the Japanese called an ahoge, which I basically saw as a cowlick. The most irritating part of this girl besides her haughty appearance was the fact that pretty much the entire front of her dress was translucent. It was to the degree that I could see her underwear.
"I ask of you, are you my Master?"
For a moment there's a long awkward pause.
"How the fuck did you get in my house?"
I completely ignore the question she asks. I'm in no mood for this bullshit.
My response seems to annoy her and she opens her mouth in order to respond.
Since I'm a polite young gentleman I of course took the proper action and rudely interrupted her before she could start criticizing me.
"Wait wait wait. This is a damn dream isn't it? Eventually you're going to start doing the Macarena. All I have to do is wake up."
At this I harshly slap myself in the face.
"There now you should be nonexistent and everything should be fine."
It shocks me to see the girl glaring at me still.
"What the hell." I pinch myself. Nope. She's still there.
"Ok give me a second because I think I might have bought something a bit stronger than cigarettes from that store clerk."
I stand up and walk to the kitchen without even waiting for her to affirm my request. From the refrigerator I pull out a bottle of whiskey and take a straight shot from it. I gesture at the girl.
"Hey you. Yeah you, you want some?"
She looks at me with disgust so I just shrug and take another shot. Then I pull out another cigarette and light it. Taking a long drag I look at the girl again.
"So you're still here? Guess that means either I'm insane or you're real."
"I assure you I am very real. Now then I shall ask you once more. Answer me properly this time. Are you my Master?"
I start laughing at this.
"Fuck no I'm not your master. I think you got the wrong guy, maybe you meant to go to one of the neighbors. I could see some of them as the type to be into BDSM shit. Wearing costumes and all that." I remove the cigarette from my mouth in order to toss back another shot of whiskey. Alternating between smoking and drinking is always fun. Hopefully I'll eventually pass out from it. It'd at least take me away from this ridiculous situation.
She seems completely perplexed by this. I guess that's not the answer she was expecting.
"What do you mean you are not my Master? Is this some form of Oriental humility? I assure you there is no reason to be overwhelmed in my presence, know that I will refrain from asking you how privileged you feel to have summoned me."
Again I rudely laugh at her. And again I take another shot. At this point I'm a little bit drunk.
"Ok lady, no offense but you need to get a pair of glasses. Do I look 'Oriental' to you?" At this I gesture to my face. She frowns but doesn't answer.
"And what's all this about 'privileged to have summoned me' shit? Do I look privileged? No? Good because I sure as hell don't feel privileged to have some random chick in a fetish costume break into my house asking if I'm her master."
"Fetish costume?!" Woah, I don't like her tone of voice. She sounds a bit angry.
"My attire is simply allowing you to bear witness to all my glorious beauty!" She gestures at her moronic getup.
"I am not some whore coming to please a simpleton like you!" Oh, and there's the accusatory finger pointing. She's practically trying to impale me with her index finger. Lovely.
"I was called as a Heroic Spirit by my Master. Since it is obvious that a pathetic being such as yourself could not dream of summoning me, I ask that you tell me where my actual Master is before I cut you down where you stand for insulting me."
Now she's pissed. Great. My response is the only logical one.
"Oh."
As soon as she said Heroic Spirit realization clicked into place. It made more sense in an illogical irrational manner. That's how magic seemed to work. It always made sense but didn't at the same time.
"Well uh." She just kept glaring at me. "This is awkward."
I say the obvious before placing the bottle of alcohol down and walking over to the dining area. She tenses up when I start approaching her.
"Beware. An attempt to harm me will be one in vain. For I. . . ."
"Yeah, yeah, Heroic Spirit, could crush me like a bug. Blah, blah, blah."
I wave off her warning before grabbing one of the chairs and carrying it over in front of the television. Sitting down I start to skip through the channels looking for something entertaining. I can hear the girl grinding her teeth behind me.
"Your impudence is unheard of! How dare you ignore me! You will pay for. . . ."
I simply raise the volume of the television. I can feel her start to storm towards my position. Glancing over my shoulder I am more than a little alarmed to see she's pulled out a large crimson sword. I have to keep calm though. Exert my dominance in this situation.
"We both know you won't use that on me."
She lowers her sword but continues to glare at me. Success! So it was a bluff. That explains what type of person she is. I could have got a servant that'd kill me right off the bat. That would have sucked.
"I demand an apology."
I frown.
"Fuck no."
This surprises her. Her eyes go wide and she starts to frown at me. Then she starts to pout. It's one of those "you kicked a puppy" pouts. I can't really resist it.
"Wait! You didn't let me finish. Damn, am I already rubbing off on you?"
She snorts at this.
"Well that was unladylike."
Again she glares at me, but this time she's slightly blushing. The sword's noticeably disappeared as well. Great, I needed to remove that from the equation as soon as possible.
"Ok, here's how it is. I'm not apologizing to you because you kind of barged in here without even so much as a phone call and accused me of being pathetic." Now I'm the one to put on the puppy dog pout. "I am hurt deeply." For added effect I throw in a little sniffle at the end.
This is all said and done sarcastically. However the girl doesn't seem to notice that as she looks slightly guilty.
"I had no role in the manner in which I was summoned. Insulting you was improper of me." There's a long pause, it's as if she's internally debating something. "I-I-I a-apologize." Wow, that certainly seemed to have taken a lot from her. As if to prove my point, she throws in a figurative finger pointing immediately after apologizing. "However your words were crude and your attitude is infuriating." I know you are, but what am I?
I laugh at this.
"You know I was joking right? Sticks and stones and all that."
Her glare deepens.
"But, I appreciate the apology. I wasn't really expecting one and you're right I started this. So even though I appreciate it I'm going to have to decline it." She's about to protest, so I continue. "It's unnecessary for you to apologize for defending yourself. That'd be a waste of words."
She seems taken aback by this. I continue.
"Alright here's how it is. By now you're probably thinking I have your master tied up in the closet or something. Unfortunately that's not the case." I allow for a dramatic pause. In order to build up to the punchline I'm about to say. "I mean you're the one into the BDSM shit, not me."
At this she glares at me harshly.
"Ha ha, can't ya take a joke? Please?"
She stops and stares at me for a second, her glare's softened but still suspicious.
"Perhaps. However that jest was not funny."
"Ouch. Well anyway, I guess I'm your master then. Though I use that term loosely." Her eyebrows rise a little. It's as if she's questioning me. I oblige by answering. "I did not intend to summon you. Also I frankly don't think I should be anybody's master considering I can't even master my own life." She actually nods at this. She nods. At this. Couldn't even deny it for my self-esteem?!
"Since you're a Heroic Spirit that means this is about the Holy Grail War." She nods at this as well. Confirming my deduction. Now for the final point, and my reason for this long spiel. "I suggest you leave and try to find a better master if you intend to win."
At this I sit back down and resume browsing through the channels of the television. The girl surprises me by speaking up. I had expected her to just storm out.
"I am afraid it is not that simple. If you summoned me you are my Master." Well, the command spells confirm that. At least that's what I'm assuming is now on my hand. "Only your death could change that. Unless you would rather forfeit your command spells and seek refuge with the church. Though in that case I would lose my chance at obtaining the Grail."
She seems sad at this statement.
"I ain't going to no church." I state this without facing her.
Then I turn to face her, with a smirk on my face.
"From what I've read of this war I understand it's like a Battle Royale concept." Great movie and book. I recommend it to any that're interested in seeing Japanese schoolgirls murder each other. "That would mean a fight to the death." Kind of stating the obvious. What would a war be without killing? A whole lot better, I can tell you that.
"Which means I forfeit and gamble that the church can keep me safe when they probably don't give a damn about a heathen like me, or I grudgingly accept this as something to make life less boring for a change and go with the flow." Yeah, my options sound very limited when I think about it. "A simple nut up or shut up moment. Though I'll make it clear right now as to what I think about this."
I look her directly in the eye.
"What's the point of winning some stupid grail? I have plenty of paper cups."
I expected for her to protest at such an idiotic remark. Instead she tries to hide a fit of laughter. Even I don't consider it funny.
At this I turn off the television and stand up to face her.
"Well then." I say this with an even cockier smirk on my face.
"I didn't think you'd actually laugh at that."
"I did not laugh."
"You did. I heard you." She blushes at this.
"So, what's your name?"
"Saber."
"Damn, wasn't expecting to summon a Heroic Spirit, especially not one from the strongest class of Servant." She smiles at this.
"I must be a badass." At this she grimaces.
"Joking, joking. So what's your actual name?"
This seems to shock Saber. She starts to smile though.
"My true name? I would happily tell you." Now where's the 'but'? "It'd be a disaster if the enemy discovered it though." There it is! "But that would not deter me in battle." She says this rather hastily, as if she's trying to prove her worth to me. Kind of pointless this early on. "Still, I think I will share my true identity with you once I have learned a little bit more about you." The way she says all this makes me think she's just weighed the pros and cons of the scenario.
"Fair enough."
"What is your name Master?"
"Let's drop the whole 'master/servant' thing ok?"
She seems puzzled at this.
"That is unnecessary, you are my Master and I am your Servant." Yeah, see that's not something you should go around saying in public. Or private for that matter. At least not to me. "There is no need for honorifics as we are equals." The sheer image of her referring to me as 'onii-sama' practically cause me to break into a cold sweat. "Yet it still seems appropriate to refer to you as Master."
"Like I said, I'm no master, I can't even deal with my own problems so I don't have the right to be the Master of a legendary spirit like yourself." I take a deep breath and think for a moment. The question of what to call our relationship seems an important one to answer. A suitable word pops into my head, and I snap my fingers, startling Saber slightly. "I got it. How about we be partners? Instead of a master and servant we could be actual equals." It doesn't matter if you say we're equals. Calling someone 'master' doesn't make you anything more than a slave. "50/50 so to speak. I mean, in battle I'd be pretty useless but I can strike up a mean motivational cheer. That should be enough for us to be associates or partners, like with a business deal."
She listens to this, smiling slightly at the mention of me cheering her. I suppose my sense of humor has finally become tolerable to her.
"While it is unnecessary and unorthodox, I see no harm in such a partnership."
"Great. The name's Dante Di Prinzi. Just Dante would be preferable."
She looked slightly surprised at this. I had no clue why. It's an alias of course. There's no reason for her to know my real name. Dante's from the famous author. As well as the video game character. Di Prinzi is a reference to Machiavelli's 'The Prince' as well as a tongue and cheek allusion to how I could have lived.
"Your name. . . ."
"It's Italian. My ancestors are from there."
"Italy? Have you ever been there?"
"Yes."
"How is it?"
"Decent, I guess."
"The people and the cities, what do they look like now?"
Now?
"Same as anywhere else. Couldn't wait to leave the place."
"Why would you leave?!"
I was surprised by her alarm. "It's unimportant. Maybe I'll tell you once I get to learn a bit more about you."
She smiles at my reference to what she said. Both of us know that if that's to be taken word for word that neither of us will ever know anything about the other. I doubt she cares. I really don't.
"So Saber, why is it that you want the Grail?" Alarm crosses her face.
"Why do you ask such a question?"
"No reason really, just curious. Though when I think about it wouldn't it be important to know what motivates my partner?" Motive's always important. Especially considering she's willing to kill for her wish. "If your goal is something like the destruction of humankind I of course have to disagree with it. Or at least alter it to 'the destruction of humankind except for Dante Di Prinzi because he's an ok guy'."
My awful joke goes right over her head.
"No it is nothing like that, the destruction of mankind is something I would not ever wish for. It would end much of the beauty in this world."
"Well as long as we're clear that your wish won't be something evil."
"Why is it that you ask as to what my wish would be when the war has not even begun yet?"
"It's simple. We're going to win. No matter what."
She flashes a large smile at this. I have no clue as to why. If we don't win we die. Which also means if we don't kill we die. Not sure how I feel about that. Blood is hard to wash off.
"Your determination is admirable. You are lucky to have summoned me as your servant. Any other spirit would make it so your words had no ground to back them."
"Well it's good to see I summoned a humble spirit after all. Your modesty is so pleasing to hear." I say this with as much sarcasm I can muster.
She notes my tone. "Do not push your luck Master." Her harsh tone then softens. "What is it that you desire from the Grail?"
"Maybe I should ask the Grail to end that stupid little tradition of using Master and Servant."
"I understand, Dante. What is your actual wish?"
"I don't have one. There's no need to rely on divine intervention." Last time I did that I sat around like a dipshit with my finger up my ass. And in the end nothing happened. Big surprise. "Anything I could desire is surely capable of obtaining with my own actions." The image of my Teacher flashes into my mind. I push it away. I don't think he would want me to bring him back. Not like that.
She smiles at this again. "I see. So I have been summoned by a magus that does not desire the Grail yet insists he will win. I might have been wrong about you."
"I'll take that as a compliment. For what it's worth I believe my initial judgment of you to have been improper." This being said, I rub my hands together. Time for the best part. "Now, Saber, would you like anything to drink?"
"Drink?"
I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. "Yeah I think I might have some bottles of water in here, maybe a soda? I'd offer you a beer but. . . ."
"That is unnecessary I am a Servant therefore I do not need food nor drink to sustain myself." She sounds as if she's reading off a line from her instruction manual. "Even sleep in not needed. That is as long as you supply magical energy to me."
I sigh and close the fridge. "Well yeah I suppose I can do that, but it's kind of going to be awkward if you act like that." She stares at me suspiciously.
"What do you mean in saying it would be awkward. I am a Servant it makes complete sense for me to not need such things."
"Ok, it'd be awkward because even though you're a Servant you look like a regular human. Except for the fact that you're wearing a dress that shows your underwear. That's not that normal." She looks upset that I insulted her dress. I don't really give a damn. Put on some pants woman.
"Plus, wouldn't it be better for us to save the use of energy until battle? That way I can provide a larger abundance of magic to aid you when we need it most instead of wasting it." That sounds like it makes sense. At least in my head it sounds like a good argument to make. "Besides I wouldn't exactly trust in my prana anyway, I only summoned you by accident thanks to the knife acting as a catalyst. This scenario we are in is largely a matter of coincidence."
"What do you mean? Are you not a magus?"
"I am. Definitely not the most outstanding one. Especially considering how I use unconventional tactics. But I'm a magus."
She seems to relax at this.
"It might be inconvenient but think of it like this. If you act like a normal human it might throw off our enemies." Granted that assumes she can act like a normal human. I'm not really sure if that's possible.
"That seems illogical due to the act of eating and drinking being something that will occur in a private setting." So what you're saying is, you won't eat off the dollar menu. And that I'm going to have to cook for you. Goddammit. "However, I understand that for whatever reason you are adamant about this so I will comply to avoid needless bickering."
"That's appreciated."
"Now, what is this talk of a catalyst? What knife?"
"Well it was a relic I suppose, I accidentally cut myself when handling it and it activated using the magic in my blood. And poof you're here." I gesture at the blade that's still lying on the floor. Saber glances at it before grimacing. Then she picks it up and sort of caresses it.
"Watch how you handle it, it's sharp." I realize this is an idiotic thing for me to say considering she's a Heroic Spirit, it's a knife, and she's the class of Saber. She doesn't seem to hear me. Then she turns to me.
"Where did you get this?"
"A gift from a friend." A complete lie of course, but she doesn't need to know the truth. "Why, do you recognize it?"
"I do. The energy it gives off is connected to me. The memories it brings are sad."
"I can dispose of it if you'd like."
"That is unnecessary. I could not ask you to destroy a possession you own."
"I know what it's like to remember things you'd rather forget. I can at least put it somewhere where you don't have to see it in the open."
I carefully extract the knife from her hands and climb the stairs to the second floor. Then I climb a smaller set of stairs to the attic. There's several ominous boxes and cases packed in this room. A lot of literature pertaining to magic. A lot of things that could cause me trouble if they were found by the local authorities. I open a small wooden box that contains stacks of scrolls and place the knife on top of them before closing the box again. Then I make my way back down the first floor.
Saber's still standing up, it seems she's waiting for me to return.
"Thank you." She says the words quietly to the point where I have to almost strain myself to hear her.
"No problem. You know you can sit down right?"
She glances at the nearby chair before approaching it and gracefully lowering herself onto it.
"So, what'd you say you wanted to drink?" She smiles at me. I know she never gave me an answer and she knows I know.
"Do you have wine?"
I smirk at this.
"Wasn't expecting you to actually be the type to drink alcohol. Of course I have wine. Though I'm afraid I lack wine glasses. And the wine's kind of cheap."
"That is fine. Usually I would insist on the highest grade of drink but since it is clear you lack the finances I will refrain from being ungrateful." Is she calling me poor?
"Uh, gee thanks?" I pull out two bottles of red wine from the fridge and grab a paper cup from the box they're in that's right next to the plastic forks on the fridge. I hand her the cup before popping the cork of her bottle off with my knife and delicately pouring her a glass.
"My lady I hope this grade of cheap drink will not insult your tastes too much." Surprisingly I hadn't said that in the mocking tone I'd first intended to. She smiles at me.
"Do not worry too much, I will not spit it out even if it insults my taste buds."
I finish pouring before placing the bottle on the table in front of her. The fact that she's serious when she says such things leads me to believe that whoever she was in her previous life her lifestyle must have been that of the upper class. I sit down at the chair across from her.
She swirls the liquid around in the cup before delicately lifting it up to her lips and taking a slow sip. Apparently the alcohol is satisfactory to her tastes as she makes a low humming sound and smiles. That or else she was just being polite.
I raise my bottle of wine.
"I propose a toast. To a prosperous partnership."
She raises her cup. "And to a swift victory in this war. May our enemies tremble at our presence."
My bottle and her cup briefly make contact when we tap them together and then I begin the process of drinking the rest of the wine straight out of the bottle while she slowly and carefully sips hers.
After that, the rest is a blur.
AN: As you can see, I'm currently rewritting/rephrasing all of the chapters one by one. Think of it like you would an update to your favorite video game. It's going to really buff the word count. The second chapter (which was originally around 6,000 words) is already at 10,000+ and counting. I'm going to mainly focus on adding things instead of outright changing them, but there will be a few massive changes. I'll list them off. Feel free to offer any ideas, I'd be much obliged. (Semi-spoilers ahead for any who've yet to read past this chapter.)
-All of Chapter 7.
-Shinji and Rider's role
-The "breakup" between Dante and Nero
-Alice's death, and of course a lot of the events afterwards.
-Dante's backstory and powers.
Thanks for reading! -SB