11—Larimar
A face. His face. One she knows well.
Stern, deep featured. Deep set, crystal blue eyes matching her own. It's unusual, though not unheard of, that their eyes should be so blue, given the dark brown color of their hair. Not just the color, but even the way they wear it, parted down the center, matches.
But here, the color of their eyes and hair, and the general manner in which they wear said hair, is where their physical similarities end. His is worn short and rough cut, while she wears hers long and loose in the back, and in two long, loose bunches on either side of her head, held in place with red hair ribbons.
Then there's the man's soul patch and goatee.
She chuckles.
I don't know how he ever thought he could pull those off.
He stands before her, wearing a white, buttoned down dress shirt with a dark blue tie, fixed in a bowknot around his collar. Over the shirt, a deep red suit coat, and matching red pants, and finally a pair of brown dress shoes.
But it's the color of the suit which she finds most enthralling.
Red really suited him. Guess that's where I got my preference.
They stand outside a tall iron gate, in front of a large mansion, on a path constructed from uniform granite slabs fit tightly together. Unsure of himself, the man who, to her knowledge, has never told a joke in his life reaches out, roughly pressing his hand into her soft hair, mashing her head about. The awkward gesture causes her long loose hair bunches to shift and sway as she bears up under his clumsy expression of affection.
He didn't seem confident doing that. It's only natural. He'd never done that sort of thing before.
"It's time. I have to go now. You know what's needed of you?"
His deep voice resonates as he speaks in a serious tone, and the girl answers politely with a single word.
"Yes."
He nods, pulling his hand back and standing up, and she takes the moment to secure the tome in her grasp. A heavy book, with a wine-red cover. She holds it against her chest, her dark blue student's tie, also fastened in a bowknot, and white blouse, tucked into her long, dark skirt, as she opens her eyes, which shine like two well-polished gemstones.
What she didn't know, couldn't have known, was that these were their last moments together.
If I'd known, I'd have liked to make him laugh. I had a few jokes ready to try. Making him smile would've been wonderful.
She can feel her breath cut short, her heart twisting in her chest as she regretfully recalls the missed opportunity.
"Work hard to put the Mage's association in your debt, Rin. If you can do that by the time you've grown, I can confidently let you decide what you want to do. I believe you can accomplish this much."
Though he tries to hide it, in his voice, she picks up on something. Some measure of doubt in his own words. Not toward her, but that he'd be there to see her meet his expectations. He'd given her the best start she could have asked for as a magus-in-training. Then, before he'd left, he'd told her about their family heirlooms, special jewels that she was to inherit, and how to manage the things kept in their basement.
The signs were all there. And likely, he knew, or at least suspected, what she didn't.
That he wouldn't be coming back.
He'd been selected to take part in a conflict. Calling it a 'war' might seem grandiose. It wasn't a conflict between countries. Just seven individuals, but as those individuals were students of the arcane arts, 'Magi', the term is à propos. Seven magi, each representing one of seven factions in a war fought for reasons unknown. Each would compete until they removed the other six from play by their surrender.
Or the surrendering of their life.
And the man standing before her, saying these things, was one of them.
"Rin. The Holy Grail will appear eventually, and it is our duty, the Tohsaka family's duty, to claim it. This means you as well, if you truly wish to become a magus."
He reaches down again and, more gently this time, pats her on the head, bringing a warm smile to her face. Then, he turns and leaves. Her last memory of the man who she never saw again. The man who entered the conflict known as the Holy Grail War. Who fought and died as a master. The one who was her instructor, and…
"Take care, Father."
She speaks her farewell to his back. He doesn't stop, look back, or wave. He simply takes her words with him as he leaves. She holds back her feelings, the tears she's on the verge of shedding.
It was the last time I saw him. I guess some part of me knew. I loved him… He was a wonderful father and a grand magus. Even among this world filled with obstinate magi, somehow one like him emerged. Maybe I'm biased, but nobody had better strength of character than he did.
She can feel a determined smile forming.
It's obvious I'd follow in his footsteps.
His words again echo in her mind. Her responsibility to pursue the Grail as a member of the Tohsaka family.
To pursue it, and to claim it.
"All right, father. I'll do my best to become a proper magus."
Not the words of her younger self, but those of her current self, born from the firm determination etched deep into her heart.
Etched there some ten years ago, now.
A hostile, incessant ringing pierces her ears, interrupting her slumber, cutting her dreams short, and she stirs, vexed for it, grumbling under her breath. Any other day, it wouldn't have mattered, but these were special dreams. Recollections of her last moments with her father.
She rolls over, pressing her face down on her pillow, and pulling it up over her head.
"Shut up… Someone, stop that stupid…"
There's no one around to honor her request, and the alarm at her bedside persists. It's only natural, with it being an inanimate object, void of life and will, and incapable of respecting her commands, regardless of how much she protests. Though she knows this, it does little to dull her frustration.
"Come on, I was up so late… Just let me sleep a little longer."
Deeply frowning, she grumbles again, burying her head further into the pillow, to little effect. Her dreams that night, and her exhausted state, could easily be explained by the way she's spent her evening, even into the early morning hours. Tirelessly working to decipher the meaning of her father's will. Something that required not only her mental energy, but her magical energy, her mana, as well. And if her fatigue is any indication, she has yet to recover.
"Stupid, stubborn—"
Incapable of showing consideration, the clock hammers on, its piercing ring drilling through her soft, inviting pillow and deep into her skull. Finally, she pulls the useless pillow away and glares menacingly at the clock, reaching her hand out and snatching it off the bedstand.
"Why does it feel like it's telling me I'm late…"
For her, being late isn't an option. It would shatter the image she strives to maintain, that of a model student. But this morning, she briefly considers it.
Maybe I can just come in at the last second?
She blinks a few times, rubbing her eyes, and focusing on the clock's face to read the time.
"But it should be fine, right? I set the alarm thirty minutes early, so I should—"
Through sleepy eyes, she continues staring at the clock, blinking as if trying to dispel the illusion it casts at her.
But it's no illusion.
This says it's seven. I get up at six thirty, so that means…
She blinks a few times as she tries to get her mind working.
Man, why do I have such a hard time thinking when I wake up? That means I already used up all my spare time!
For a few more wasted moments, she glowers at the clock with ice in her eyes, willing the hands to move backward, and gaining nothing for her efforts. Eventually, she groans, slams the alarm to shut it off and tosses it down. As she pulls her covers aside, the sun coming in through the windows reflects the yellow of her sleep wear. A simple matching pajama top and bottom, adorned with the drawn faces of many cats.
The soft red carpet of the room yields kindly, cradling her bare feet as she stands and stretches, forcing back an unladylike yawn. She takes a moment to examine her appearance in the mirror affixed to the oaken-paneled wall over a small cabinet.
An unflattering, frustrated frown on a disheveled face greets her. One that can only be hers.
"Just… Shut up," she mutters at her dissatisfied reflection, scratching her bed-head.
She looks away from the mirror, her gaze passing briefly over the two candles resting on the cabinet, and the closed jewelry box sitting between them. As she turns, making her way to the closet to select her day wear, her eyes pass over the small oak table in the room's corner, flanked by two chairs with yellow cushions adorned with floral décor. The floral pattern on the chairs matches her bedspread, the canopy over her bed, and the beige-yellow curtains of her room's three windows.
Windows through which the sun's rays currently pour, though they do little to knock away the morning's chill, and bristling against it, she shivers. Slowly, she moves toward her closet, rubbing her arms to warm herself. From it, she brings out her clothing for the day. She then turns to the dresser, pausing for a moment at the chest beside it. An odd chest, and one that would feel right at home in a dungeon, or that might hold some reward for some hard-won victory in a video game.
It doesn't distract for long, and she pulls out her unmentionables from the dresser, and a pair of long, black stockings. Before laying everything out on her bed, she pulls the blackout curtains for each of the three windows closed. Some sunlight still reaches through, but prying eyes, were there any willing to risk her wrath, no longer can.
She lays her clothing out, staring down before clapping her face to rouse herself.
Right… Off with the old.
She slips out of her yellow cat-faced pajamas, laying them on the bed, then lays her nights undergarments beside them before slipping into their clean counterparts. A modest, matching black bra and panties, and the black, thigh-high stockings.
Downcast, she frowns, nearly pouting as she tucks herself into her cups.
"Sakura definitely got the better end of that deal."
She slips on her long-sleeved white dress shirt, accented red around the cuffs and collar, then secures the red student's tie in a bowknot, close to the collar. Next, she slides up the dark gray skirt, which hangs to about her knees, tucking in her shirt, and last, the beige student's vest.
She draws back the curtains, letting the rest of the sunlight in. She grabs her two black hair ribbons, then steps into the cold hallway. bristling against the sudden, even colder chill. The door latches as she pulls it closed behind her, and she moves through the hall to her living room, still half-asleep and mumbling under her breath.
I need to turn on the heater. I wish I had some way of doing that before getting out of bed.
As with the alarm, there's no one to placate her. The large house in which she lives is unoccupied, save for her.
Passing through the hall and into her living room, she gives it a cursory inspection, finding everything as it should be. Three closed windows, keeping the outside out, and each allowing diffused sunlight to pass through the drawn sheer curtains. She shivers again, muttering under her breath.
It's cold here, too. Lousy, lazy sun isn't doing its job.
As she huffs against the sun's failure, her breath comes out in a small, visible puff. Her still-tired gaze rests on the grandfather clock in the room's corner, flanked on each side by a window with an open set of red blackout curtains, matching exactly those of the third window in the room.
Just after 7:00. Last day of January, too. Certainly feels like it.
The sun reflecting against the surface of the well-kept chestnut dining table catches her attention, and she runs her finger along its surface, pulling it back. On finding no trace of dust, she smiles and nods. For a moment, she considers sitting on the tan couch, or one of the four matching, thick-cushioned dining chairs that surround the table, then thinks better of it.
If I sit before I'm awake, I'll end up zonked out again. I hate mornings…
Apart from the couch and dining chairs, two similar dining chairs sit flanking one of the three windows. Next to that, a cherry wood desk with two jade statuettes, and an ornate lamp in between them.
Another of her breath-clouds dissipates, and she gripes inwardly.
"Better set the thermostat before I die from hypothermia. Stupid sun…"
Silently cursing, she adjusts the thermostat to a comfortable temperature, then makes her way to the bathroom. As she stands in front of the sink and mirror, she lets the water run for a moment. She cups her hands together, then holds them under the running water, and recoils the instant it touches her skin.
Damn it, it's cold still!
Wincing, she grits her teeth, holds her face over the sink, and brings some of the icy water up, taking care to not get any on her clothes.
Whatever. At least it will knock away the sleep.
After taking a towel from the rack near the sink, she uses it to dry her face, then breathes out another tired sigh. Condensation forms on the mirror's surface, but quickly fades, and she uses her reflection to guide her as she brushes out her long, brown hair. The same reflection aids her in securing it up on each side, in those same long, loose bunches, with the black hair ribbons she brought from her room. She flares her hair out in the back, then gives herself a last inspection. Her reflection is the same, but her expression has changed from what she'd seen in her bedroom.
No more tired, frowning face, but one belonging to a person who seems ready to take on the world.
Still need to make breakfast, but then I'm on my way.
She steps out of the bathroom, then looks at the grandfather clock in the corner, and lets out a small sigh of relief.
"It looks like I still have some time. Not quite quarter after yet. I should be able to get breakfast ready with time to spare. No need to rush."
The thought causes her to smirk inwardly.
Like I'd be caught dead doing something so unladylike as running to school. 'Act with composure and elegance at all times.' Dad always told me that was our family custom.
That she ascribes importance to such a custom boasts of her fine pedigree. Hers is indeed a high-class background, proved by that, the enormous, western-styled mansion she inherited, and one other thing.
That the roots of her family, the Tohsaka family, run deep and ancient, steeped in the mystical. A family studied in the arcane, able to wield the power of magic. Not something about which one could gloat, or even speak openly. To whom would they even speak of such things? To adopt and practice magic is to accept the heretic's brand, and to be resigned to seclusion, hiding from the eyes of the world.
Even if there weren't powerful organizations and forces at play, preventing the members of the magic practicing community from doing so in the open, most would prefer simply to spend their time relaxing at home, studying the art, away from the prying eyes of the public.
It's not for no reason these thoughts rattle around in her head. No. The day is close, so it's only natural for them to be front and center in her mind.
It's starting soon, right? The Holy Grail War…
Thoughts of her dream stir. The last moments she spent with her father, before he went off to die, bringing from her a wistful sigh and turning her expression down with a small, sad frown.
Dad said we trace our roots back to before the start of the first one.
Lost in her thoughts, she mechanically makes her way to the kitchen, getting what she needs to prepare her breakfast from the refrigerator. Eggs, bread, butter and bacon, leaving the orange juice to chill for when the rest is ready.
Not a massive kitchen, but spacious enough. Someone could comfortably slip between a person working the stove, and another washing the dishes without cause for complaint.
From a rack above the sink behind her, affixed to the wall, she takes down a pan, placing it over one of the larger elements on the stove. The burner's flame ignites as she turns the dial, and the bacon she lays in the pan soon sizzles, filling the kitchen with its savory scent. Her face turns a shade of red as her stomach rumbles in anticipation.
Jeez, just give me a minute, alright? It'll be ready soon.
Her mind wanders back to the day. To the near future task. What she knows of it, and the matters involved. The conflict, the prize, and the tool with which one claims that prize.
Servants, huh? Summoning Servants is probably the closest thing to a miracle most people will ever be able to witness, let alone perform.
Even among those practitioners of the forbidden art, there are divides. The widest gulf being between those capable of the more common, mundane arcane feats, and those able to perform what they can only describe as miracles. Magi, the former, and sorcerers, the latter. Comparing magic to actual miracles is like comparing the flame of a matchstick to the core of the sun.
The difference is incomprehensible, and those who can grasp the sun are few in the world.
Known at present, only five.
Miracles. Something thought by most to be unachievable, regardless of time and effort invested. Such things are called sorcery. While defying common explanation, magic differs in that, with a sufficient investment of time and energy, one can achieve such things. So for one to refer to the more mundane 'magic' as 'sorcery' would be to invite derision from the community at large.
With fork in hand, Rin leans close to the pan, careful to avoid being burned by the popping bacon solids, and she slips it underneath each piece, flipping it at just the right time to ensure its crispiness while maintaining its flatness. While letting the bacon set, she stares at the eggs sitting next to the stove, tapping her chin.
"Hmm. Over easy, scrambled, or omelets this morning…" After a few moments, she shrugs. "Let's try for over-easy. I still have to wait for the bacon to finish, though."
She takes a napkin from a nearby holder, and a plate from the dish rack near the sink behind her, laying the napkin on the plate, and setting it next to the stove. She then turns her attention back to the bacon, waiting for it to finish, and returning to her thoughts.
Thoughts about the inherent incompatibilities between the modern world, a world which doesn't recognize the existence of magic or magi, and those very real magi who practice very real magic. Magi who, as they expand their understanding and control of the arcane, learn things immeasurable by more conventional methods.
Of course, developing such talents is not done in order to succeed or enjoy a happy, 'normal' life. No, for that, one pursues a typical education and becomes a 'normal' adult. Such things will bring about a far more fulfilling life than studying magic.
And after all, normal life has its perks.
Sure, I mean, just look at technology. This stove, for instance. Such a thing didn't exist even a hundred years ago, and now there's one in every home. Magic is being left behind more and more.
The metal fork in her hand tings against the pan as she slips it under the bacon, snagging it between the prongs, and lifting it up. She lets the solids drip back into the pan before placing it on the plated napkin, then does the same with the next piece.
There's little that's impossible anymore. Things once achievable only through magic are now modern day conveniences. There's nothing 'miraculous' about them at all.
With the bacon on the plate, she turns to the eggs, grabbing and cracking them over the pan, where they soak into the still-sizzling solids and quickly turn white. The shells fragment as she tosses them into the waste can next to the stove.
But even though that's true, there are still things beyond science that only magic can achieve. Even our ancestor said it. If science is moving into the future, magic is moving into the past—!
"Damn it!"
For being so absorbed in her thoughts, she neglected to grab something necessary. Only now does she finally notice, as the eggs in the pan become dangerously close to burned. From a nearby wooden holder, she grabs a metal spatula and slides it under the eggs. Clumsily, she flips them and winces as they splat against the pan, the yellow yolk running out from under the browned whites proving her failure.
She sighs with disappointment, chopping the failed over-easy eggs into something more uniform.
"Scrambled it is, I guess…"
Now that her breakfast is finished, Rin sets her fork down, and it clinks against the now empty plate. With a paper napkin, she dabs and wipes her mouth, clearing away the dregs of toast and egg that remain. She then finishes her glass of sweet orange juice. Satisfied, she lets out a small sigh as her breakfast settles comfortably. She collects the plate, silverware, glass and napkin, returning to the kitchen with everything. The dishes find their way to the sink, and the napkin into the waste can, where it comes to rest upon the fragmented egg shells.
Returning to the living room, she grabs her bag, then takes one last look around, making sure she has everything she needs. With nothing of concern coming to mind, she makes her way out, but stops just after stepping through the exit to her livingroom as something suddenly does.
"—I really should grab that pendant. Taking it to school could be a risk, but leaving it here would be a waste."
She nods, then makes her way to the basement, where she finds it sitting next to an open chest. A radiant, red, triangle-shaped jewel secured by a silver clasp to a simple silver chain, reflecting in the ambient light.
"Father… Well, his will anyway. It said this thing is a hundred years old, and the most powerful jewel in the house. He said it has a decade's worth of magical energy stored within."
She holds it in her hands, closing her eyes, showing an appreciative smile. Enjoying its unreal warmth, she reflects quietly on having received such a fine gift. Her father's will had revealed and explained it. A powerful trump card, and a natural inheritance, given her family line's specialization in imbuing magical energy into crystals, jewels and gemstones. One facet of their skill at transformation of power. What time was afforded them, they would often spend storing their magical energy in jewels such as this one.
So naturally, it serves well as her family's heirloom.
"If we're like guns, and jewels are like bullets, like father said, then this would make me a howitzer, or a bazooka… But only for one shot."
She smiles, sliding the gem into her bag.
This and the house are all he left me. Well, and one other thing…
Her hand comes up, caressing her left arm. The arm where her father engraved her magic crest. Proof that she is her family's successor. By all appearances, little more than an abstract, intricate tattoo hidden by her long sleeves, yet it holds condensed within all the inherited magical knowledge and power of the Tohsaka family.
"… It's not started yet, but I guess it doesn't hurt to be careful. Not just a big bullet, but pretty much anything should be possible at least once with the power in this gem."
She makes her way up from the basement, then looks again at the grandfather clock in the living room's corner.
"Half past. I can't dawdle or I'll be late for school…"
With her bag at her side, pendant safe inside, she makes her way to the door, slipping on her long red dress coat to insulate her against the winter morning's cold air.
Last, her simple, brown slip-on flats.
"Schließung. Verfahren Drei."
Once outside, she holds out her left arm toward the door of her house, her eyes closed to help her focus, as she recites the simple incantation. The crest, though concealed by her coat and shirt, glows for a moment. Spoken by anyone else, the words would simply have raised a few eyebrows, or maybe have someone asking what 'Closure. Method three.' means. But when uttered by a trained magus, and weaved with magical energy, they lock down her residence, barring entry through any mundane means.
The life she's chosen to live, the life of a magus, is filled with inherent risks, and one cannot afford to lower their guard when leaving their house. Though it's of little concern for her, as strangers, robbers, and even stray cats rarely, if ever, find their way on to her property.
"… I don't mind never having guests, but not even a stray cat? What's up with that?"
The disappointing thought causes her to sigh before she takes what will be her last look at her mansion before she returns later that evening. A typical western design with two floors, and her home for years, now. Though modest, at least when compared with what some might think of when they hear the word 'mansion', it would still fit in well among the upper crust of any city. Mostly, her view of the evergreen trees dotting the landscape is unobstructed for there being so few houses nearby.
The city, Fuyuki, is odd in its mix of Western-styled houses near where she lives, and the more traditional Japanese-styled houses across the way, just past one of the town's intersections.
"I guess it became like that since all the foreign families came to live here, but I rarely see many foreigners in the town now…"
She turns her thoughtful frown toward the river, looking to the neighboring town. Some time has passed since its reconstruction after the massive fire had burned it to its foundation ten years ago. And in that town, a cemetery has interned within the first generation of several foreign families.
"Maybe something about the land of Japan just didn't suit them. I'll bet that fake priest would know. He's well informed on boring subjects."
"—Huh?"
As she makes her way through the residential area, she turns her head and looks around the vacant street, wearing a small frown.
"What's going on? It's more quiet than usual…"
It's an accurate observation. There's very little noise, except for that made by a calm morning breeze and the chirping of a few of the larger birds that brave the cold winter months. The time of morning, seven thirty, should see many people out and about, making their way to school, or to work, but there's nary a soul to be seen as she walks the red bricked road, flanked on her left and her right by many tall houses.
"… It's strange, but I guess there are days like this. Maybe everyone slept in?"
Still being wrapped in her warm blanket, in her bed, not having to bear up under the morning's unusual, bitter coldness. An appealing thought, to be sure, and she smiles while imagining it.
Things change little, with no one seen or heard, even as she arrives at her destination. With her hands on her sides, she looks over the school, and the road, and frowns at finding no one around.
Not even a single student.
"Hm… But even so…"
At the very least, she should see those students who have their club activities arriving or milling about the entrance as they make their way. But the only person at the gates is herself, and from what she can see in the schoolyard, the clubs seem to have only begun starting their morning practice.
Just starting morning practice…? Oh no. Don't tell me.
"Tohsaka? You're up early today."
The words, offering more evidence to support her fresh theory, cause her to sigh. She leans her head forward, kneading the bridge of her nose as the one speaking them comes into view. One of her schoolmates. A tomboyish young woman with medium-length, reddish-brown hair and brown eyes, wearing the school's female student's uniform. She stands staring at her, smirking and holding her arms folded under her chest.
"… I knew it," Tohsaka mutters under her breath, breathing another small sigh, and lifting her frustrated gaze from the ground.
"Pretty cold this morning, right?" The girl's smirk breaks out in a full-on grin that reaches her eyes.
Tohsaka nods. "Good morning, Mitsuzuri-san. Please excuse the abrupt question, but do you know what time it is?"
Different from how she talks to herself when alone. Here, she speaks with a polite tone and precisely chosen words to maintain her carefully crafted image as a model student. The girl before her, her friend and classmate, Mitsuzuri Ayako, frowns lightly, casting her a side-long glance.
"Huh? Tohsaka, it's almost seven. Did you sleep-walk here?" Leaning forward, she waves her hand in front of Tohsaka's eyes, checking if she's alright. As one of the few friends she has who knows her disdain for the morning hours, she'd be the one to wonder about her welfare, seeing her up and about at such an early hour, and asking such strange questions.
For a third time in just a few minutes, Tohsaka lets out another sigh, holding her hands at her sides and frowning at the ground. Realization over what must have happened finally sinks in.
"The clocks must have been an hour fast somehow. All of them… My alarm clock, the wall clocks… Even my grandfather clock."
Still staring at the ground, she folds her arms, trying to puzzle it out.
Really, what could have happened? Is this some sort of joke played by my dad? To make the clocks go crazy when someone removes the pendant from the basement?
"Tohsaka?"
"Don't worry. It's nothing. I take it you're off to morning practice, like normal?"
She nods, sighing and frowning. "Yeah. The archery club has a lot of problem students, and one of the few talented members we had quit. I have to make everything look good so we can attract a few new members from the freshmen, come April."
"It's always something for the team captain, right?" Tohsaka says, showing her friend a sympathetic smile and giving a thoughtful nod.
"That's easy for you to say, since it's never any of your concern." She holds her hands against her hips and shakes her head. Then she looks up. "Say, since you're here so early, why not come watch? I'm sure the guys would love it." She re-folds her arms, a sly grin forming.
"Come watch the archery club?"
Tohsaka looks skyward, prodding her chin and considering. From the archery club, she knows precisely three people. One is her friend, the tomboyish captain, Ayako, standing in front of her. They had made each other's acquaintance because Tohsaka had been watching the archery club activities from a distance for some time.
For the other two, even the word 'acquaintance' feels a touch generous.
Tohsaka looks back down, meeting her friend's gaze. "All right. If all I have to do is watch, it's fine. Like you said, it's early, and I have nothing going on."
Her sly grin breaks out into that full-on, all-over grin she'd shown earlier.
"Great, then let's go right now."
Tohsaka sighs as her friend spins with an energy she can only envy, and she follows behind as they make their way toward one of the school's athletic club facilities. A modern dojo, outfitted specifically for students to practice archery. From the outside, it lacks much of the appearance one would expect from such a building. White plaster walls and a large metal canopy angled downward over the entrance to protect from the elements. The only thing traditional about it is the doors. Those Eastern-styled, translucent paper-covered doors that slide open and closed along their tracks.
She pauses for a moment, looking the building over.
Maybe the director just has some fixation with archery, but this place is far too elaborate to use for a school club.
"Come on. There's still time before practice, so we can have some tea and chat," Mitsuzuri says, still wearing that big grin, and grabbing her hand, pulling her, literally, from her thoughts and into the building.
They step inside, and Tohsaka gives it a cursory glance. Well maintained, a wood floor polished so diligently it reflects light. One wall down, leading outside to a grass field where sit several stationary archery targets, all set in an overhanging structure to catch any errant or misfired arrows. Mitsuzuri clicks a switch on the wall, and the several lights set into the ceiling, square lights with incandescent bulbs, turn on, adding to that which comes from the outside.
The tea takes little time to prepare, and they sit in a couple of wooden chairs near one table, sipping and enjoying the warmth, which helps to knock off the morning's chill.
"I'll just come right out and ask. How's it going, Tohsaka? Found a reliable partner yet?"
Her friend's frank inquiry pulls her attention, and she turns, finding her staring, her arms folded and wearing an expectant smile. She takes in a small breath. It's not the sort of question she expected. But it's always hard to guess where Mitsuzuri Ayako will carry any conversation.
She takes a small sip of tea, using it as a pretense to gather her thoughts.
"… That's a pretty direct way of asking. Though, judging from your tone of voice, it sounds like you've already found yours?"
"No comment," she says, her smile dropping into a light frown, and she eyes her friend from the side again. "That stays secret until you answer my question. So what's going on? Looking at your tired face, I'm feeling like I'm right."
Tohsaka sets the cup down and breathes out a tired sigh. "I'll have to say 'no comment' as well. Or I would, but since you'd just read me anyway, there's no point. No, not yet. Your turn now. I'm guessing you don't have time to be wasting?"
Mitsuzuri lets out her own sigh, deepening her light frown. "It's true. Things aren't looking great for me. I could find someone pretty quick, but it's not a simple matter, you know? Our futures depend on this, so I can't compromise."
"Hmm…" Tohsaka's mouth turns up in a sly smirk as she takes another sip from her tea. "I see. So you just don't want to choose hastily and end up losing to me?"
"Of course not." Mitsuzuri turns toward her again, re-folding her arms and showing her own slight smirk. "Who I find doesn't matter if it means I can't make you admit defeat."
She lets out a bold laugh which echoes around the empty archery range, then lifts her cup, taking a sip of her tea. Tohsaka gives a small laugh in reply.
"Geez. Seems we really are alike."
Mitsuzuri nods. "I warned you when we first met what you'd be in for."
She nods, thrumming her fingers against her cup.
She did, at that. It was some shock to hear her describe it. "We'll probably end up in a 'kill or be killed' relationship."
Of course, it's nothing like that. What her friend meant is that if they don't give their all in these friendly rivalries, they could never become genuine friends. On that point, Tohsaka agrees wholeheartedly. And so, their relationship flips back and forth, oscillating between friendship and rivalry.
She takes another sip from her tea, then sets the cup down on the wooden table.
"So why are you suddenly bringing this up?"
"It's not 'suddenly', Tohsaka. You're the one who started this. You said something like 'There's something wrong with a woman never having a boyfriend,' so we started this competition to see who could get a boyfriend before our third year."
Tohsaka taps her cup a few times, then laughs.
"… Oh yeah. Didn't we agree the loser would obey the winner for a day?"
Her friend grins, nodding. "Right. Who does that anymore? Even kids don't make those kinds of bets or promises, but it's not like either of us will be a sore loser about it. Whatever the result, the loser will follow the winner's orders." Her grin broadens, anticipation growing in her voice. "Just thinking about what I'll make you do gets me excited."
She lets out another loud laugh, and Tohsaka lifts her cup, taking another sip.
Honestly, she's so serious about this. When she's like this, she's pretty difficult to deal with.
She hides another sly grin behind her cup.
But I'm no slouch, either. I'm looking forward to the same thing. I guess you could say, in that way, neither one of us is someone you'd want to take lightly.
She finishes her tea, sets the cup down, and composes herself by drawing back her grin.
"I see. But, Mitsuzuri-san? Enjoying yourself is fine, but you should take care not to get your objectives wrong. You know the true point of our contest, right?"
She nods, holding her chin and sighing. "Yeah, I know. It's not a complete victory unless my relationship makes you burn with envy. But that's the biggest problem for us. Regardless of how good a guy we find, it's pointless if we can't bring ourselves to love him, right?"
With the point conceded, she breathes out a heavy sigh. Tohsaka nods as well. From what she's heard, Mitsuzuri has no fondness for men, dating, or even romance. Though it's only a rumor. And since it was she who suggested their little competition, Tohsaka suspects it's simply that she's never had the chance to prove otherwise.
But something in Mitsuzuri's words doesn't sit right with her, and it takes her a moment to figure out what. When she does, she frowns, tapping her finger against the table.
"Hey, hold on a second. What do you mean by 'us'? I'll say this right now, but regardless of how similar we are, I'm not as cold-hearted as you. I'd have no problem falling in love with the right guy."
Mitsuzuri rolls her eyes hard, then turns her stare back again. "Oh, that's such a lie. Or you're fooling yourself. There's no reality in which you'd be concerned about a guy. All of those confessions, and you never once gave a positive response. If you had even the slightest interest, you'd at least try letting one of them take you out on a date, but you just keep shooting them down. How am I supposed to believe you have even the slightest interest, with all of that stacked against you?"
Tohsaka shakes her head, and her hair shifts around her shoulders.
"You're not thinking it through well enough. Isn't it possible I've already got someone I'm thinking about, and that's the reason I've declined all those ill-suited suitors?"
Mitsuzuri laughs and smiles, setting her cup down and folding her arms.
"Wow, that's a brilliant answer. I love that romantic sort of thing." Her voice contains no hint of deception or mockery as she nods along with what she says.
Tohsaka sighs, a small frown forming as she taps her finger against her cup.
Like hell. It'd be great if that were the case. She definitely knows that's not true. She'd beat me at poker every time if we ever played.
"Yeah, that would be pretty nice."
But there's a reason rumors spread. Even if they're exaggerated, you can find a kernel of truth in all of them, and in this case, Tohsaka hasn't exactly been subtle about declining any advance made toward her.
Though it goes beyond her lukewarm feelings toward such things.
"I can only admit it. In things like love and relationships, I know nothing, and have even less experience."
Again grinning, Mitsuzuri nods her agreement. "Exactly. Just like you said, we're pretty much alike." She sighs again, glancing at the wall. Her eyes widen as she looks at the clock. "Eh, looks like it's almost seven. Other students should arrive soon, so we should probably table this sort of talk. We should at least pretend to be proper students."
Tohsaka's eyes widen with slight surprise.
"Wow. I didn't know you cared so much about decorum." Her eyes relax, and she shows a smug grin. "It was worth getting up this early if it meant getting to hear you say that."
Mitsuzuri shakes her head. "Nothing like you. Your adherence to decorum is so rigid it's like you're a different person most of the time."
By this time, both cups are empty. Tohsaka stands, grabbing them and moving to freshen them up.
"So why don't you join a club, Tohsaka? And I won't accept any nonsense like 'lack of athletic ability'. I'm still pretty bitter over losing to you in everything during last year's physical assessment."
"Hm? That's not true." She pours the fresh tea and returns to the table, setting one steaming cup before her, and the other before her friend. "You beat me in lung capacity." Sneakily, she hides a sly smirk behind her cup. "And in weight."
Mitsuzuri shows another enormous grin as she laughs triumphantly.
"That's right, I was three kilograms heavier than you—!" Her grin vanishes in a second as she slams the table. "Hey, that's not something to be celebrating, you damn fox!"
"Mitsuzuri-san, you should be careful or the tea might spill. It wouldn't be proper for the captain to be making a mess here."
"Shut up. Foremost, I'm your rival. Being captain here comes second," she grumbles, glowering with her arms folded. "It's only natural I'd be upset over something like that with no other members around to worry about."
Tohsaka only sighs, taking another sip from her tea as her friend glares through narrowed eyes.
Mitsuzuri is difficult to manage for a few reasons. Her temperament being one, but there is another reason people wouldn't want to make her angry. She is quite the gifted martial artist, skilled in many forms. Even when she joined the archery club, she had no experience, yet quickly worked her way up to being captain, as if it were the most natural outcome possible.
Tohsaka sets her cup down. "But isn't it a problem for you to claim that sort of thing?"
"Of course not," Mitsuzuri says, casting her gaze downward. "I'm basically a figurehead here. All I can do is monitor the problem members. There are plenty of people better suited for this role than me. I definitely don't bring it much dignity."
"Really?" Tohsaka tilts her head, her eyes widening. "But Fujimura-sensei says your skills are top-class."
At her unexpected words, Mitsuzuri's own eyes grow wide, and she breathes out in surprise.
"Huh… She said that? That makes me feel a little better. I guess it's pointless, thinking about people who don't come around anymore. If she says so, that should be good enough for me. I guess I should take being captain more seriously."
Tohsaka nods her agreement. "That's right. And speaking of being a good captain, it's about time for the club members to arrive, right? I'll get going, but do your best, captain."
Her surprise fading, Mitsuzuri shows a small frown. "Leave? You're not staying to watch?"
"I wouldn't understand. Watching from outside is fine, but outsiders shouldn't be in the range, right?"
With the matter having been decided, she stands and turns toward the door. As if on queue, it slides open, and two shadows, one average in height and one quite short, are cast by the light pouring in through the doorway.