Ritsuka couldn't sleep. Again.
Images flitted past one after another: Chaldeas, frozen solid; black-cloaked soldiers filling familiar halls; the dark wound carved by smoke into the familiar Antarctic sky; the splatter of red across Leonardo da Vinci's chest; her grin as she gave her own life to ensure her comrades' escape. The memories of the only place he could call home since the world had ended, now eternally stained.
He had utterly, totally failed.
In the Singularities, he had fought. Stood alongside great heroes of legend. Silenced the grand architect of the burning of human history with a strike from the only proof left of the girl who stood by his side through it all.
And yet, Chaldea lay in ruins, and he lay here, grinding his teeth to dust in frustration.
Over the past weeks, little had changed. Stagnation had taken hold of the Shadow Border like a disease. Each day brought the same mechanical conversations, the same lacking briefings, the same status report. Ritsuka had made a game of the one changing variable, their supplies. He'd try and figure out who broke down and took the extra ration, or left their personal tablet on too long, draining the available power just that little bit more.
Not that he would blame them, of course. He was no better. To claim just that little bit of excess felt like the only way to stay human. To stay sane, knowing that if the Shadow Border ever resurfaced, the first thing the crew would see would likely be evidence that years of hardship had been pointless.
The spiral of dark thoughts slowly began anew, but was shattered by a harsh pneumatic hiss. Strands of unkempt pink hair bounced past his apathetic gaze in time with heavy footfalls, followed by the dull thud of a body hitting the lower bunk. As the door slid shut, the room lay still. All too soon, however, the silence was broken once again by soft hiccuping sobs. Ritsuka couldn't help but clench his fists at the sound, his uneven fingernails threatening to draw blood as they dug furrows in his palms.
Da Vinci made a point to come down from her piloting chamber at least once a day, in an attempt to maintain the camaraderie of the crew. Her teasing tone and casual jokes were balm to most, the shaken staff appreciating even the ghost of what once was. Mash played along in the moment as well, fidgeting with the tie of her Chaldean uniform (no one mentioned the stains) as she let out a quiet laugh. But no one could miss the way the pair avoided meeting each other's gazes. And much the same, no one could miss the pained cries that mysteriously came from the bunk room following each visit.
The status quo was fragile. Even the facade of normalcy was easier than confronting the reality of their situation, and as such, it had become something of an unspoken expectation for grief to be handled privately. And yet, despite this, with each cry, Ritsuka's chest only grew tighter. With the way Mash was caught up in her sorrow, he couldn't even be sure if she was aware he was there. No one expected him to do anything. But he just couldn't deal with this any more. The isolation from the outside world was bad enough, endless sunless days spent in a metal box. He could not bring himself to isolate his sole companion as well.
In one smooth motion, he rolled off the bunk. Although the noise made the curled-up girl shudder, she did not so much as glance towards him. Despite the momentary surge of confidence, Ritsuka began to second guess himself. Perhaps Mash simply wanted to be left alone. Perhaps his intrusion would only fray her nerves further. Anything had to be better than this clockwork cycle of suffering, though.
Tentatively, he reached out a hand.
Mash's back was warm. She flinched again under the unexpected touch, but pressed into it. Her back arched as she rose, though her head still hung low. Ritsuka struggled to find words of comfort, dark as his own recent thoughts had been, so he sufficed by slowly running his hand up and down her back. With each motion, he leaned in just a bit closer, arms shifting into a simple hug as their bodies met.
"S…Sen..pai…?"
Mash's voice was hoarse, with a keening edge that fluttered around the brink of shattering. For but a moment, her shuddering stilled, before she spun around with surprising force, crashing into his shoulder. Along with the explosive release of tension came a new wave of sorrow, what little composure Mash had left crumbling in the safety of his arms. His mind clogged itself with placations and attempts at providing solace, but he could not bring himself to lie to her now of all times. There was only one thing to say.
"I'm here, Mash."
Mash tried to respond, but could not gather herself enough to speak. For several minutes, Ritsuka simply patted her back as she cried, wincing at how raw her voice became, wishing he could do more, wishing he could give her hope the way he once had, all those years ago, amidst the flames of Chaldea's first mission. Eventually sobs turned into groans, and then to whimpers. Silence returned to the room, but the air was charged.
"It's not fair."
"It's n-not fair."
"It's not FAIR!"
"Why can't I protect anyone!? Not Doctor Roman, not my home, not even Da Vinci!? I can't… I can't take this any more…" Her momentary fire wobbled, and Ritsuka desperately wanted to reply, but he knew that the ever-stalwart Mash needed this more than anyone else.
"I w-was… scared and alone… but at least I had them… At least, no matter how awful the experiments were, Doctor Roman would come and talk to me later… At least… At least Da Vinci would treat me like something other than a test subject… At least with you, I h-had a purpose! A-And then, I couldn't even be there. I was so… SO scared when you rayshifted without me, S-Senpai. I felt like such a failure… B-But at least Da Vinci would bring me coffee, and the staff finally began to… to treat me like a friend…"
He could feel her begin to shudder again, barely keeping herself coherent in the face of her relentless grief. But still she pressed onward, years of suppressed trauma and anxiety exploding outwards in a bitter symphony.
"I don't.. I don't want to die, Senpai. I-I'm… scared. I've learned so much… so much about what it means to be human, and there's so so much more I need to learn… And now…"
Tears began to flow down her cheeks once again, soaking quietly into the already-damp fabric of Ritsuka's shirt.
"And now, I'm scared I won't ever get to experience any of it. I'm scared I'll lose you too. Every t-time I see everyone else in the meeting room, I'm scared that they only see me as a failure, because I couldn't be there to protect the people they cared about. I'm scared because Da Vinci is gone, and every time I see her now… every time I see her… she doesn't know me anymore. N-Not… not the way she used to... I just… I just can't lose anyone else…"
Slowly, Mash began to pull herself off of his shoulder, breaking the hug while staying close. For the first time since she entered the room, the two of them made eye contact. Slick trails ran down each cheek from bloodshot eyes as she tried to hold herself together. She looked torn, her hands fidgeting with uncertain energy, as she thought about what to say next.
"I… I never told them. Either of them. I never told them that I loved them, that I cherished them, th-that they made what little life I had before any of this worth living! I never knew how to say the feelings I had in my heart until it was too late…"
Mash's voice grew faint. Her eyes narrowed, staring down at her now-clenched fists.
"Th-They're gone… and every trace of them.. i-is gone too… I can't hug Dr Roman's coat.. I c-can't go visit Da Vinci's office that smells like her perfume… Everything is.. G-gone…"
Looking back up once again at Ritsuka, her face softened.
"Senpai… I won't… I can't make that same mistake again. I can't thank you enough… No matter what, you've always had faith in me, even when… even when I had no faith in myself. Standing up to protect you at the Throne was one of my proudest moments. I just… I…"
Mash trailed off, gazing deep into his eyes. For the first time since he had joined her, her breathing had finally settled, though lingering shakiness remained from the outpour of emotion. He couldn't bring himself to look away as she leaned forward, purple dominating his vision.
Their lips met.
He could feel her. Every shiver, every sway, the soft gliding of her hair against his cheek. And finally, he understood.
As he pulled back, he could see the rush of anxiety as it filled her. The sudden forceful return of her gaze to her lap. The way her hands rhythmically pulled down her dress, smoothing away invisible wrinkles. He knew he had to act. Grabbing her hand, he gently ran his thumbs across its back. He took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Mash."
She jolted up at her name, meeting his eyes once more. He could feel his heart begin to pound in his chest, thoughts he never dared voice before now demanding release.
"I… I'm not sure I have all the words, but…" Ritsuka cleared his throat, tilting his head with a nervous, heartfelt smile. "Thank you. Thank you for being by my side." Another pause. He squeezed her hands, as much for himself as for her. "Even… Even now, with the way things have turned out, there's no one else I'd rather have here with me."
Tears again welled in Mash's eyes, even as the ghost of a smile danced upon her lips. Carefully, he reached up, brushing the budding droplets away. He couldn't help but chuckle as she jumped at his touch, considering that she leaned into it moments later.
"I'm here, Mash." His fingers carded through her hair. "I can't promise you that I'll never leave, but I'm here with you, and I'll stay here as long as I have the power to do so. Thank you for being honest with me. I miss them too. I…" He searched for something, anything to try to sum up his feelings, but… "I miss them too."
The pair relaxed for a moment. Mash leaned forward, resting her head against Ritsuka's chest, listening to the drum of his heart. His arms wrapped around her once again.
Later, tales would follow, stories of an awkward doctor and the dazzling yet ditzy genius alongside him. But for the moment, silence wasn't so bad.
That night, for the first time since it had submerged into the Imaginary Sea, more than just sobs echoed out from the makeshift bunk room of the Shadow Border. There was nary a dry eye among the crew, and yet, somehow, rueful smiles matched those tears.
And even later, when a pair of time-worn companions finally were too exhausted to carry on, for the first time since the assault on their home, they both slept soundly.
Author's Note
This was... amazing. I'm so so glad to be back to writing fic again. It has been far too long. The last creative work I actually completed was in April of 2021, and there has been SO much going on in my life since then. I feel centered and more alive than I have in ages!
Shoutouts to ClinickCase for helping me get the original brainworm for this, and massive thanks to Lanymme and TungstenCat for editing help on relatively short notice. I won't promise other ideas soon, but I hope there will be!
