After the thunder of the magenta flood of light faded away, Mamako lowered her hands and pivoted toward Shirou and Sakura. The bandages on her hands were soaked in blood and her eyes were glassy.

"Well! That was invigorating!" She swayed, and Saber gave her a supportive arm. "Oh, thank you, dear. Are you kids all right? Oh, I see you are. Yay…" Her eyelids fluttered and she said faintly, "Hero-sama will be angry at me again. But don't worry… that just means he cares…" She frowned, her eyes closing entirely. "He's Ma-kun's age though…" She collapsed bonelessly into Saber's arms.

Shirou shuddered. He felt like some dream he'd been lost in since going to reclaim Sakura had dissolved around him. Suddenly the only right thing in the world was Sakura beside him.

"She lives," said Saber tensely. "But she's very cold and pale. I fear she expended too much of her strength shielding us."

"We need Rin. Or a hospital," said Shirou, looking around as if an answer would appear.

Sakura shook her head slowly. "No. Senpai, listen."

"Listen to… what? It's quiet."

Sakura gave Shirou a sidelong look. "Yes, it is." She glanced at the houses on either side of them and then pulled away from Shirou's hand. "It's really quiet."

"Sakura!" said Shirou as she marched to one of the houses. He took a few steps after her before throwing an agonized look at Saber with Mamako, pulled in two directions at once.

"Finding out what has occurred will be important in our planning now, Shirou," said Saber quietly.

Meanwhile, Sakura went right to the front of the house and first knocked, then hammered on the door. The sound echoed up and down the empty street, and Shirou realized what Sakura seemed to have already guessed: There was nobody breathing on that street except them. The idea was so breathtakingly horrifying that he couldn't even move until he realized Sakura was shoving open the house's unlocked front door.

If the house was unlocked that meant somebody should have been home. Imagining Sakura tripping over a corpse freed Shirou from his horror paralysis, but by the time he'd dashed to the house, she'd already vanished within.

He bulled in after her, panic surging through him when he didn't see her in the empty hall. As she stepped back into the hall from a side room, he almost ran her over.

She caught him, her arm curling around his waist, as she said flatly, "They're all gone. Even the baby. I think somebody was changing a diaper…" She spoke so calmly that he wondered if she'd somehow seen such tragedy before.

"Gone?" said Shirou blankly. He looked around again, as if that would help him understand. The house had lights on in the hall and the living room, with a nightlight activated in what must have been the baby's room.

Sakura shook him a little, her voice rising in pitch. "Gone, senpai. They're not here." She let him go and hurried back outside. At first, Shirou had the crazy idea that she was returning to the Matou mansion to see if Shinji and her Grandfather had gone too. Once again he raced after her, catching her by the arm.

"We have to check the other houses," she said in a little voice. "I want to check. I need to know."

After a hesitation where he thought again about Shinji, and bruises, Shirou nodded and let her go. "I'll come with you. Even if most people are gone, there might be some others who… who were protected. No, there must have been."

He thought of Rin, and of Archer's confidence that those behind Bounded Fields would find shelter. Rin had to be safe. If she didn't turn up soon, they'd have to go looking for her. He didn't know how injured Mamako was, but it was possible Rin was her only hope.

The house across the street was locked, but the one next to it was unlocked, and also empty. Food had been left cooking in the oven. Shirou automatically turned the oven off and then stared helplessly at the roast chicken half-done inside. What could he do with it? What should he do with it? It was wrong to waste food, and wrong to steal food, especially from the dead. Were the inhabitants dead? Would they come back soon, expecting their supper? The half-cooked chicken had just started to smell good, and Shirou couldn't help feeling like just leaving the chicken there, uncooked, soon to rot, was disrespectful to the food itself.

And then he imagined dozens of chickens, maybe hundreds, all over Fuyuki, left behind to burn and decay, untasted, unappreciated, in homes where everybody was gone.

The thought was too big.

He'd have to do something about the chickens.

"Senpai!" called Sakura urgently. He turned away from the nightmare in relief and joined her in the living room. "It's odd, senpai, but doesn't that look like where the television would be?" She pointed at a blank wall with an outlet where, yes, Shirou would expect to see a television.

"Did it vanish too?" he wondered. "Was there a tv in the last house?" He hadn't checked their stove. He'd go back—

"Shirou!" shouted Saber, from the lawn outside, where she held the chilly Mamako against her own warmth while keeping watch.

He was out the door in a flash, Sakura right behind him. A green and gold ship filled the street and that golden king, Gilgamesh, was stepping down, just as angry as he'd been in Shirou's house. That time he'd worn a black jacket and jeans, but now he wore armor and his chest was bare, with angular red tattoos on his skin. Instinctively, Shirou moved between him and Saber.

"You," said Gilgamesh, his voice clipped and sour. "Of course you survived. Because of her?" His mouth twisted in disgust. Saber came up beside Shirou, having pressed Mamako into a kneeling Sakura's arms, while Gilgamesh stared at them as if trying to make a tricky decision.

Shirou wondered if Mamako was right about the man: that his anger simply meant he cared. But this didn't feel like much protection. Caring could mean so many things. Sometimes you cared so much you got confused and hurt who you cared for, because that kind of caring meant changing who you were.

Sakura's wet hair, curling next to her ear, and that scent, fresh and clean and her own...

His fists clenched as helplessness swept over him. He'd fight to protect Mamako and Sakura, but he remembered the battle between Saber and Berserker. This Servant was smaller in physique but just as mighty in presence, and what did Shirou have to defend against such power?

The air hummed as golden ripples opened around Gilgamesh as he studied them. Softly he said, "Perhaps I have given far too much attention to a woman who so consistently ignores me."

Saber tensed, her invisible blade in her mailed fists. She lifted the weapon, her eyes glittering. "Begone, King of Heroes. Too much that is strange has happened tonight for us to fight. Look to your hairdressers and chocolate shops instead."

Gilgamesh gave her a dead look. "I remembered you as interesting, Saber." Blades slid out of the golden ripples and Gilgamesh surveyed them one last time. "Well—"

"She trusted you'd come for her," said Sakura's clear voice from behind them.

The weapons from the portals froze, but the distant carelessness of his expression became something hard and set. "What?"

"She knew she'd be hurt protecting us, but she did it anyhow because she trusted your…" Sakura stumbled over her words, her anxiety slipping past her courage. "She trusted your feelings."

Gilgamesh's face twisted again, this time into an expression of intense irritation that didn't feel nearly as threatening even with the swords still poking from the portals. "Tch. Taking me for granted, is she?"

He strode forward and Saber moved her sword defensively.

Slowly, Shirou put his hand on Saber's arm. "You said she needed help, Saber."

Saber didn't even look at him, her face a picture of stubborn determination. Every taut muscle in her body communicated her willingness to attack Gilgamesh if he came any closer.

"Your inability to draw conclusions from prior events goes some way toward explaining your previous failures, Saber," said Gilgamesh acidly. "After my previous exertions, why would I harm her now?"

Unconsciously, Shirou's eyes flickered to the swords still intruding into the world from the portals. It was a tiny movement, but the Archer noticed. He sighed, putting one hand to his head. "You mongrels would weary a god."

With a flick of his hand, the portals closed, and he stalked past Saber to where Sakura knelt in the grass, still holding Mamako against her warmth. Sakura willingly released her to him and he scooped her up, cradling her head against his bare chest. Without another glance at any of them, he carried Mamako back to his strange ship and levitated to the top.

As he watched Gilgamesh leave with Mamako, Shirou felt an ache in his chest. Mamako needed healing, and Gilgamesh seemed to be able to provide it, but all the same, Shirou felt like he was losing something he needed more than he'd realized.

Sakura came up beside him, slipping her hand into his. As the ship lifted into the air, she whispered, "She's not gone forever. She'll come back." Shirou didn't know if she was reassuring him or herself, but found the words comforted him either way.

"Shirou," said Saber on his other side, and Shirou realized belatedly that she was trembling, just a little. "Shirou, we're going to have to deal with that man again, are we not?"

"Probably?" he hazarded. If Mamako returned (and oh he hoped she did), Gilgamesh probably would too.

"Yes," muttered Saber, as if to herself. "And I mustn't fight him. Even if he's the enemy of all that is good and just in the world. He might even be…" her mouth curled in distaste, "…useful in this bleak hell we've found ourselves in."

"Maybe," conceded Shirou. He looked around, thinking of all the abandoned ovens. "Let's go home and check on Taiga. I promised to cook for her. I have to keep my promise."


Mamako awoke slowly and comfortably into a dimness that smelled of cedar and rain. Warmth pressed down on her, nestling her into softness so gentle she almost felt like she was floating. Her first thought was that she'd have to get up soon to make breakfast for Ma-kun… or was it Shirou-kun? But it was so pleasant in this bed. She'd hurt so much after the magenta storm and now she didn't.

The magenta storm… She remembered that Shirou and Sakura had been safe. And then…

She was in a bed, under an extremely heavy blanket, and it was the most comfortable bed she'd ever experienced despite still being fully dressed.

Her brow furrowed as her eyes opened, staring up at a dark ceiling. Light came from the corners of the room, shining brightest from one corner. When she turned her head, she found Gilgamesh sitting there, leaning back in a chair a little too large for the space. His eyes were intent on her as he leaned his chin on his hand.

Mamako met his gaze gravely as she wiggled her toes under the heavy blanket. Physically she felt better than she had in days, and a surge of affection for Gilgamesh rushed through her. She was sure she'd disappointed him, and yet he'd helped her once again anyhow. And he wasn't scolding her, either.

A tiny thread of unease stitched itself through Mamako's comfort. Why wasn't he scolding her? Had he suddenly developed an awareness and matching respect for her advanced age? The blur of disappointment and shame made her sit up abruptly, pushing the heavy blanket down to her lap.

"You make everything strange, Mamako," said Gilgamesh, as if musing to himself. "Everything twists beyond the known and I think you're at the heart of it."

Mamako looked down at the red and blue blanket, looked up through her lashes, remembered he had feelings about that look, and raised her head. "Oh, I hope not. I try to follow the rules when people explain them to me."

He snorted, shifting position to lean forward, his hands clasped on his knees. "And you lie like a modern angel. You only follow the rules it pleases you to follow."

"No!" Mamako protested. "Following the rules is very important to staying safe, you know. It's just that sometimes there are things more important than staying safe."

"And sometimes the rules are simply inconvenient?" inquired Gilgamesh, with a flash of malice.

She gave him a half-smile, smoothing the blanket with perfectly healed hands. "You certainly seem to think so."

"Tch. I'm a king. I make the rules."

"Really? Did you always, even when you were a small child?"

His crimson gaze met her own for a long moment. "Even then."

Sympathy twisted Mamako's heart, tears springing to her eyes as she imagined what a lonely little boy he must have been. "Didn't you have a mother?"

Gilgamesh raised his head as his hands tightened together. "Do not even begin to think you have some justification to treat me as one of your mongrel children, Mamako. Yes, I had a mother. She was a goddess. But goddesses were common, and I was unique."

All children are unique. The casual truism almost tripped from her mouth, but something in his gaze held her tongue. She remembered he was of the class Archer and a little of the nature of the Holy Grail War that Rin had explained the first night. For a moment she contemplated all the little bits of himself he'd told her, scattered like jewels in darkness. Then she shied away, looking down at the blanket again.

"What a nice blanket!" she said brightly. "And so heavy. I don't think I've ever slept so well!"

"From my treasury," he said absently. "You were drained nearly beyond recovery."

Mamako flushed. "I don't know—" She remembered the blood from her palms, dancing around her. "I think the bandages helped me, even then. Thank you."

"Yes," he said dismissively, and returned to looking at her silently. Mamako looked around the room, noticing the shelves with exquisite knick-knacks, the expensive architectural art on one wall, the small collection of CDs and books. Thick curtains blocked any hint of light from the window. The room was so tidy as to seem un-lived in, save for the comfortable way it smelled.

"When I was a boy," he said at last, "there were a million futures, scattered like straw. As I grew into a man, all the futures I saw slowly aligned." His brow furrowed as she looked at him attentively. "Now they scatter again. This singularity we're in is only one example of the… disruption you've caused."

Mamako didn't quite understand what he meant, but she felt strongly this was one of those times, as with the explanation of the Grail War, where if she just listened carefully, she'd figure out the important parts. It seemed like he was half talking to himself, anyhow.

"Or so I thought, but now I wonder…" he said after another moment. Then he shook his head, the musing expression fading into his usual arrogance. "No, it couldn't be. It's just that somehow you turn everything around…"

Mamako's cheeks puffed out. "Me? I've been trying so hard to behave properly. You're the one who wants… wants to go against everything expected." She shifted, suddenly aware she was in a bedroom, all alone with a young man she found very, very troubling indeed.

One of his eyebrows raised and he murmured, "Not what I was thinking, but since you are…" His gaze moved from her face down her body, and her body responded most shamefully.

"No!" she said loudly, her face very red. "Thank you for your magic blanket, but I really must get back to Shirou and the others."

A smile so quick as to be imaginary flashed across Gilgamesh's face and he met her eyes again. "Not yet." She shoved the blanket further off her, and he added, "If you try to leave before I permit it, I promise you'll enjoy the consequences."

Mamako's stomach flip-flopped and her thighs clenched instinctively. Suddenly unable to bear him watching her flush and squirm, she flopped back down on the bed again, covering her face. As the minutes passed, her curiosity gradually grew, until finally she looked at him again. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking about you. Waiting." His mouth twitched in a frown as if something had occurred to him. "You may rise, but do not leave this room."

He leaned back again as she promptly got off the bed. After smoothing her dress and looking around in vain for her shoes, she began to drift around the room, inspecting the decor and the books. Each knick-knack was, up close, an incredibly expensive looking statuette. Some were very old, while others were representations of modern structures. The books, though, were classics, one and all. One of them was called Gilgamesh: the Hero of Mesopotamia, and reminded Mamako that she'd heard the name before after all.

She looked over at him, curious, but not sure exactly what she wanted to ask. Before she could decide, he stood up, took two long steps to her side, and took her by the arm. "Come."

He pulled her over to the window, flinging open the curtains. Beyond was the pre-dawn street in the upscale neighborhood Gilgamesh apparently called home. No cars moved along the streets, and no people along the sidewalks. It reminded Mamako of a movie set. In the distance, near the river, there was a tall geometric tower she didn't remember seeing before. She felt sure she would have noticed, too. It was very tall, maybe the tallest building she'd ever seen.

The horizon still glimmered with magenta light, although after a tense moment she decided it wasn't moving toward her. She turned her head, craning to see as far as she could from the window.

"Yes, it contains Fuyuki now," said Gilgamesh, but his gaze was fixed on the street below. Mamako followed his gaze and realized one person remained, at least. It was a teenage girl in what looked like hospital pajamas, walking very unsteadily down the middle of the street.

Mamako blinked and looked closer. "Is that Ayako, Rin's friend? The girl we rescued from the mountain?"

"Yes," said Gilgamesh, and his hand tightened as she tried to pull away. "Wait. Watch."

Biting her lip, Mamako watched. Ayako kept looking around and rubbing her eyes, which seemed to be the main reason for her unsteady pace, but other than that, she seemed reasonably well. But why was she walking the streets alone in pajamas?

"Ah. Here…" muttered Gilgamesh, as another figure leaped down from somewhere on high to hand in front of Ayako.

Another Servant, Mamako realized immediately. Everybody here who did such things seemed to be a Servant. This one was a tall, astonishingly well-endowed woman, with purple-black hair nearly down to her feet and a long sword in a sheath striped like a tiger's tail. She spoke to Ayako and then moved forward to grab her in a decidedly unfriendly way.

Dread crawling across her skin, Mamako tugged again at Gilgamesh's steel grip. "That woman… we can't let that woman take Ayako. There's something wrong with that woman. Please, Gilgamesh!"

"Shh," he said, and pulled her close to him again just as the ground trembled and a roar loud even through the window glass filled the street. The Servant holding Ayako released her, pulling out her sword with a feral grin.

Wildly, Mamako looked in the direction of the roar. The largest man she'd ever seen stood at the curve of the street. He was a true giant, with eyes like flint and an enormous weapon—club? sword? in one hand. And standing on his shoulder, her hands on her hips and her face bright with a mixture of triumph and challenge, was the young girl who'd introduced herself as Illya.


Author's Note:

Saber definitely does not ship it when it comes to Gilgamesh and Mamako. On the other hand, I think Archer kind of does. Shirou is... confused. That's a good word for it. Confused. Meanwhile Sakura is unusually well-suited to dealing with an apocalyptic crisis. Who would have guessed?

Please take a look at my friend TungstenCat's "Patterned in Rubies" for a different take on Gilgamesh. Personally, I'd really like her to post the next chapter.