"Welcome back," Sakura said with a bow.
"Yes, yes." Archer did not even look at her as she swept in through the entrance, shoes dematerializing into golden dust. "Instruct the maids that they are to platter the slop in their finest dishes and silver. I will be awaiting them at my dining table."
"Understood." The words slipped from between her lips before she realized it, pulled out by Archer's confident strut. As if her agreement was as inevitable as the rising sun, the natural order of things. There was no malice in the act, no cruel eye daring Sakura to meet it and suffer the consequences. Only the swagger of the king among her vassals.
Sakura found it didn't bother her. More than that, it was almost a relief.
"I did not realize your… interests ran in this vein, Rin," Saber said from behind her, voice carefully neutral.
She turned to find her sister blushing, arms crossed defensively while she scowled at the knight holding her red coat in one hand and… was that a manga?
"They don't! That…" her hands flailed before coming to rest angrily on her hips. "A-anyway! What were you doing looking through my pockets? Snooping?"
This time it was the knight's turn to look shamefaced. "I apologize. I felt its bulk and my curiosity got the better of me."
"Which wouldn't have been an issue if you hadn't grabbed my coat!"
"That I shall not apologize for." Saber's lips curved up slightly. "It is a knight's duty to assist a fair maiden in all matters."
Sakura raised a hand to muffle her laughter as her sister's blush intensified. It took Rin a moment to recover enough to hastily grab the book from Saber's hands. Sakura glimpsed a hint of bare flesh on the cover before it disappeared behind the girl's back.
I... Sorry, Neesan. I didn't realize we were that loud.
"I… I guess I can let it slide," Neesan managed at last, then rounded on a bewildered Senpai, his hand hovering over the few plastic bags not taken by the maids. "And you!"
"Me?"
"I swear, if you're about to walk into that kitchen to whip up some side dishes, so help me, Shirou—!"
"I like cooking!" he protested. "What's wrong with that?"
Sakura giggled quietly as her sister jabbed a finger at him. "I bought take-out literally so that no one would have to slave over the stove, you blockhead!"
"Hey. It's not slaving if I find it relaxing." Senpai crossed his arms. "We're going to need something for breakfast anyway. Plus, Saber always has to grab a midnight snack."
Neesan's gaze snapped back to the knight. "Is that where all my extra rice has been going!?"
This time, Saber didn't even have the decency to look sheepish. "Hunger is the enemy, Rin."
"Oh, is that the case?" spat Neesan. "I thought it was looming poverty!"
More laughter threatened to spill from Sakura's lips before she bit it back. This was nice, standing among them and—
"Let the boy go," Archer's voice carried from down the hall. "I will need something edible if this meal proves as nauseating as it smells."
"Ugh, fine!" Rin huffed as Senpai picked up the remaining plastic bags in one hand and walked towards the kitchen. His free hand briefly brushed against Sakura's shoulder as he passed, and she responded with an exhausted smile before following him a few steps.
"Wait, Senpai, let me help—"
"Don't worry about it." He waved her off, though not unkindly. "It's your turn to sit and relax, Sakura. I'll only be a few minutes."
She might have pressed the point if not for the fatigue sinking deeper into her with every breath. As it was, she wasn't entirely sure she would be able to make it through dinner without nodding off into her udon. So instead she lingered, watching fondly as he disappeared into the kitchen and Neesan and Saber into the hallway.
Her sister paused. "Are you coming, Sakura?"
"I'll be right there," she assured. "I just want to quickly check something."
Once Neesan's hair—previously glossy and perfectly arranged, now veering to downright unkempt from the day's struggles—fluttered around the corner, Sakura finally let her shoulders slump.
So much had changed in the last three days, since the War had overtaken Sakura's life like a storm and carried her away. Today alone, she had woken up in her childhood home, then seen it go up in flames before taking up residence in a castle she'd never even known existed. Sakura felt like she was being swept away in a current, barely treading water.
Yet even so, she felt… content, if bone-tired. Even if the War continued, and the future looked uncertain, she was prepared to accept whatever came next. Anything, so long as she could remain among these people, with their bickering and open smiles and outstretched hands.
A family, her heart told her, even if it felt nothing like the cold rigidity of the Tohsaka, or that… other place.
She liked this one a lot better.
Smiling, Sakura checked one last time that the front door was properly barred, then turned to join them, crossing the checkered tiles of the hall. A lot had happened today, and more would happen before she finally collapsed for the night. But she would handle each wrinkle as it came, now that she finally had the tapestry she'd always wanted within reach.
At the very least, she didn't think she needed to have another talk with Senpai about throwing himself in front of people who meant him harm. Even if she'd been forced to appeal to the hurt he would cause everyone who cared for him—herself most of all, but also Neesan, Fujimura-sensei, even Saber for all the awkwardness she felt between them.
Her smile fell when she spotted a familiar curtain of white hair coming down the stairs. Illyasviel took them one listless step at a time, her gaze flicking towards the dining hall.
Digging her nails into her palm helped banish the small pang of sympathy threatening to rise in Sakura's breast. That girl didn't deserve it. Not after she'd tried to take everything from her, and almost succeeded.
Illyasviel paused at the bottom and briefly glanced at Sakura, her expression unreadable. Then she turned and executed a perfect curtsey. "Good evening, Miss Matou. Quite a late one, at that."
The name prickled unpleasantly over Sakura's skin before she pushed the sensation away. She had lived with it for ten years, and she could live with it a little longer.
She returned the girl's polite smile with one of her own. "Good evening. Will you be joining us for dinner, then?"
Ruby eyes turned towards the echoes of conversations and clattering cutlery. "Of course. It's a hostess' duty, after all."
The sardonic smile on the girl's face, the stiff set of her shoulders…
No. Sakura's hand curled into a fist at her side. Remember what she did.
"Shall we, then?" Illyasviel nodded towards the assembled voices.
"Yes, please."
Walking next to each other, but certainly not together, they entered the dining room. It was smaller than Sakura had expected, the long oval table seating only ten instead of the two dozen she had expected from a castle like this. The rest fit the part, however—high white walls and a panelled ceiling, a crystal chandelier and antique chairs bearing a golden crest on white padding.
Archer sat at the far end of the table, slouching slightly in her chair as she sipped wine, yet somehow still regal as a lioness. The seat at her right was empty, but the glowering knight in the one directly past it made it clear it was reserved for Senpai. To Sakura's disappointment, Neesan was seated across from the boy's chair, although the older girl seemed too exhausted to appreciate her good fortune. She didn't even grind her teeth when Archer motioned to have her glass refilled.
Suppressing a sigh, Sakura walked over and took a seat by her sister's elbow, instinctively folding her hands into her lap. To her surprise, Illyasviel looked almost relieved to sit on Saber's other side, despite the close proximity to an enemy Servant. Something about it was off, but the weariness weighed down on her, and she decided to return to the thought later.
She was no sooner settled than Archer swept her gaze over the table and tutted. "Such drawn faces at the king's table, and after only a day's labour. Truly I underestimated the wasting effects of this 'modern' era." A shake of the blonde mane. "No matter. We shall yet enhance your endurance to something acceptable."
"I'm sorry, was I supposed to be prepared for my family's centuries-old manor to be burnt down today?" Neesan's words lacked their usual fire, stifled in a yawn.
"You are the one so quick to remind us that we are at war, little magus."
Sakura's sister was just opening her mouth when Saber's fist thumped on the table.
"Have a little sympathy, King of Heroes." Emerald eyes bored into the other Servant. "I doubt you would be so gracious were it your vaults that saw ruin."
Archer's lips curled into a superior smirk, one that was rapidly becoming familiar to Sakura. "Come, King of Knights," she said, placing a hint of emphasis on the last syllable, "My vaults are impenetrable to foe and thief alike."
Ignoring Saber's crossed arms, she took another languid sip from her cup. "However, if I were to lose everything, I would continue to walk forward. I did so once, and shall do so again." The smirk sharpened. "Can you say the same?"
"I shall walk as far as I must." Saber's fingers tightened over the tablecloth. "However many times I fall, however many times victory is snatched from my hands…" Sakura's breath caught on the anger etched into the knight's face. "I shall set things right."
The golden king closed her eyes and sighed. "How pitiful. Even surrounded by object lessons, you have learnt nothing."
"Provoke me all you wish, Archer," said Saber through gritted teeth. "The true test of mettle is yet to—"
"Sorry for the wait, everyone!" The kitchen door swung open to reveal Senpai's smiling face, followed by the two maids. Each carried silver platters on which were arranged porcelain bowls and plates, accompanied by the savoury aromas of spicy udon, seaweed salad and croquettes.
Following etiquette, or perhaps survival instinct, Senpai placed the first bowl in front of Archer, who greeted it with a look of mixed disdain and curiosity. The rest of the portions were quickly doled out, then the maids positioned themselves at the back of the room while Senpai gingerly took his seat at the king's side.
Saber bowed her head and folded her hands in a gesture Sakura dimly remembered from her childhood church. "Thank you, Lord, for the food we are about to receive, and the nourish—"
The snapping of chopsticks tore the knight's gaze to where Archer caught a dripping noodle and raised it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she slowly chewed her mouthful with all the concentration Sakura might have given to her bowstring before an archery match. Then the golden king swallowed and her nose crinkled.
"How utterly disgusting," she declared.
Ever the earnest host even when it wasn't his house, Senpai hurriedly rose from his chair. "Sorry, sorry! I can make something else if you tell me what you'd like—"
"Sit down, boy." A lazy wave of Archer's hand had him back in his seat. "A king finds entertainment wherever she wishes. Consuming this slop is its own form of amusement."
"If you say so," said Senpai dubiously. It didn't stop him from serving her a double portion of croquettes, to Saber's cry of indignation.
"Here." There was a clink of porcelain as Illyasviel tipped her own treat onto the knight's plate, answering Saber's questioning look with a small shrug. "I'm not that hungry, so you can have it."
Sakura could understand the lack of appetite. She had often felt the same way when she walked through the doors of that house, uncertain of what would await her that ev—
No. She bit down viciously on the fishcake in her mouth. I don't feel sorry for her. I don't.
Dinner ended up being a quiet affair. All the humans were simply too tired to say much, while Archer busied herself with her wine and Saber devoured plate after plate of food—including all three of her allocated bowls alongside half of Neesan's and Sakura's too.
Eventually even the knight's furious eating slowed, before abating entirely. Archer flashed her an amused look before snapping her fingers imperiously at the maids, which they took as a signal to clean up. A frown from the Servant stopped Senpai's hands just as he was beginning to stack bowls. He gave a sheepish shrug before filing out of the dining hall on Saber and Neesan's heels.
Sakura instinctively followed him, climbing up the stairs with legs that felt like lead every step of the way. All she wanted to do was curl up by his side in a nice warm bed. She could worry about the details later.
Except the details refused to fade into the background, as Saber opened the door ahead of Senpai and strode into the room.
Sakura blinked.
"Saber?" Senpai asked. "What's up? Is Illya okay?"
She bristled before pushing the little spike of frustration aside. Giving kindness to those that didn't deserve it was in Senpai's nature—even part of what had brought them together.
She didn't have to like it, though.
"Lady Illyasviel is of good health, to my knowledge," said the knight. "Of more import, she has been trained to defend herself." She grimaced. "Forgive me, Master, but I cannot say the same for you."
"I'm not a kid, Saber." Senpai heaved a sigh. "But I'm not going to keep Sakura up to argue about it tonight." A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Don't think this is over, though."
"As you say, Master," said Saber in the most unconvincing show of acquiescence that Sakura had ever seen.
Even if Sakura wasn't thrilled by the sight of the Servant taking position by the window, a wave of fatigue and a deep yawn convinced her that Senpai had the right of it. The carpet felt deliciously soft under her feet, and the bed looked better still.
After a lifetime of rigidly instilled manners, it felt wrong to lie on it wearing her day clothes, sweaty and dusted with the ash she hadn't managed to beat out. But it was all she had, and the idea of sleeping naked with Senpai…
A furious blush crept over her face as she climbed onto the bed. Maybe it was silly after what they'd done together, but she couldn't help but feel shy about his eyes roaming over her exposed form. And maybe he was feeling a little bashful too, clearing his throat as he took the other side of the bed and pulled his black jacket around himself.
"Um... looks like more shopping tomorrow." Senpai chuckled ruefully as he stretched out over the covers. "At this rate, every clothing store in Shintou will recognize me."
Sakura bit her lip as she rested her head against the pillow. "You don't have to get anything for me, Senpai."
He rolled to face her, brows furrowed. "Don't be silly, Sakura. You need clothes, and there's no way in hell you're going back there to get them."
Warmth rose in her chest, followed by a prickle of guilt. "I won't be able to pay you back for a while. But I promise I will."
For this, and everything else.
The boy was just opening his mouth when Saber's voice firmly cut in. "There is no need, my lady. It is a knight's duty to assist a maiden in need."
Sakura gave a little jolt before resettling herself. Of course she's still here, she thought as a wave of mixed feelings washed over her.
Amber eyes flicked towards the Servant before returning to Sakura. "Ah... Saber's right. And I don't mind at all. It's the least I owe you after all the help you've given me."
He really did have a beautiful smile. Unfortunately she didn't get much time to admire it before he turned to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
"Hey, uh, Saber?" Neither teenager needed to look towards the window to sense Saber's nod of acknowledgment. "How come you're so insistent on guarding us tonight? I mean, you left us alone back at Tohsaka's place…"
A suspicious silence.
"...Saber?"
The knight awkwardly cleared her throat. "I was standing guard by the window when you and Lady Sakura entered the room that night. I meant to alert you, but you were, ah…" A cough. "Preoccupied."
Oh. That was a little embarrassing, but Sakura refused to let the feeling consume her. Not when she could still feel the warmth of Senpai's fingers on her skin when she closed her eyes.
The same couldn't be said for the boy in question. "Then… then you s-saw…." he stammered out.
The scarlet flush overtaking his face was only matched by Saber's own. "No! That is… I directed my gaze out towards the grounds the entire… duration…" She winced. "I apologize, but I could not take the risk. Lady Rin was prepared for any kind of attack, and yet Avenger would have slit her throat had Archer not returned when she did."
A small shuffle of feet on the floor. "Carelessness is the enemy, Master. I will not lose you."
"Saber…" Senpai murmured, and Sakura could see the tension around his mouth before it slowly relaxed into a smile. "Okay. And… thanks."
Then that smile flashed her way, and her heart melted a little more. "You too, Sakura. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what we talked about earlier."
"I'm glad," she nodded as the boy curled on his side and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Senpai."
"Goodnight, Sakura. Goodnight, Saber."
"To you as well, Master."
After a few breaths, Sakura turned her head towards the knight still standing guard, both hands resting on her sword. "Goodnight, Saber."
Green eyes widened in surprise before the Servant smiled and nodded. "Rest well, my lady."
Another cold morning without even a pull-up bar.
Shirou took his exercising very seriously—even being stranded in a castle in the middle of the woods wouldn't stop him. Three hours sleep be damned, he had a regimen and he wouldn't give it up for anything!
A phantom shinai whacked him over the head, accompanied by a roar of outrage.
...well, maybe some things. But not much.
Sweat dripped off his brow as he fell into another pushup. His palms dug into the plush red carpet of the sitting room with each count. He felt bad about staining it, but this seemed like the least expensive thing to tarnish, especially after one of the maids yelled at him for dirtying the marble.
Thirty one… thirty two….
A golden heel came down inches from his nose. He inhaled sharply, then glanced up. Archer was looking down at him, her expression unreadable.
"Err..." he started, the ruby gaze putting him at a loss for words. "Good morning?"
Archer only stared at him. Shirou held her gaze for a few breaths more, then internally shrugged and went back to his workout. She'd probably critique his technique soon enough.
Thirty-three… Thirty-four….
There was the soft sound of footfalls on carpet. When he peered up again, Archer had pulled in one of the armchairs. She sat comfortably in it, one leg draped over the other, still watching him.
The heat in the back of his neck wasn't entirely from his workout anymore. Shirou closed his eyes and made himself focus on the count.
Thirty-five... thirty-six...
"You exercise every day." The golden voice cut across the silence.
He paused mid-push-up, brow furrowing "Uh… yeah."
"Why?"
Shirou took a moment to consider that. Unlike his archery—or his self-taught magecraft, before Saber and Tohsaka had yanked him onto proper learning—his morning workout was just that, not an exercise in discipline.
"I'm keeping in shape, that's all."
He wouldn't be much of a hero if he couldn't even catch a criminal in a forty metre dash.
"Keeping yourself honed." Archer's slight but deliberate emphasis on the last word felt like an unspoken question. One he might have ignored, if not for the intensity of the gaze on his bare shoulders.
"I guess," Shirou agreed absently before returning to his push-ups, raising and lowering his body on aching arms. No warrior of legend or maid would stop him—a regimen was a regimen, damn it!
"Do you find pleasure in it?"
"Sorry?" He halted long enough to wipe his sweat-soaked bangs from his forehead.
"My words were quite clear, boy." She leaned forward in the armchair. "Do you enjoy this training of yours?"
Did he? Shirou had never spared it any thought. It was simply necessary, like dusting or house repairs or jamming rods of burning iron through his nerves.
"I don't mind," he finally settled on.
"No, you don't." Archer stroked her chin. "So long as you become the weapon you hold in your mind."
Forty-one… forty-two...
"Not a weapon," he grunted between counts.
"Oh?" Her smirk was audible. "Then what?"
A hero of justice. But it felt silly to say it aloud, whatever promises he repeated to himself under each new moon.
Laughter, smooth and deep as distant thunder, signaled that he'd slipped up and said it anyway.
"No need for declarations of fealty." Crimson eyes gleamed as they looked him up and down. "You already belong to me."
"Don't let Saber hear that," Shirou muttered even as he blushed. Pulling his own gaze back down to the carpet, he forced himself through another set. Not that it helped, when Archer's grin could somehow fill the whole room.
"The knight's mettle has yet to be tested," said Archer. "Tell me, boy. You may fight for some justice I do not care to define—but what is it you fight against?"
"Huh?" Shirou said intelligently.
"Don't beg ignorance to me. I shall not wait long for an answer."
Shirou chewed the question over as he turned onto his back, beginning to work on his leg raises. It tasted like old grass—a memory he wasn't keen on remembering. Moonlight banished it as he thought back to the conversation he had with the old man, the one that made him start walking down this path.
There were no answers there either.
"I don't know," he finally said. "Hurt, I guess? I want to pull people out from disasters, to protect them from criminals. You know, that kind of thing."
"The little homunculus is a criminal under any definition of the word." Archer appraised her nails. "Yet you protected her."
"Illya's not a criminal," he responded instantaneously. All he got in response was her smile turning into her patented smirk once more, red eyes glinting under the faint light.
"Two houses she's burnt down with the intent to murder beg to differ."
"You don't know her circumstances," he retorted, kicking the air viciously.
"Neither did you when you made that choice." Her voice was maddeningly calm.
He frowned and let his feet fall to the ground, taking a deep breath. "Look, I just don't want anyone to cry."
Even if it's an impossible dream, I'm still going to reach for it.
She glanced at him. "When you choose your enemies over your allies, do they not weep?"
"Please don't," he grunted. "I already had this conversation with Sakura. Look, I get it. I'll be careful, okay?"
A low purr, almost a growl, emanated from her throat. "You would speak for your King?"
Oh, crap. She can kill me. Right.
"Uh, sorry, that's not what I meant."
"Meaning is not entirely yours to choose," she said, leaning forward some. "Intent does not excuse a crime."
Crime. That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it.
"I don't want to die or anything," he said firmly. "And I don't want to worry my friends. It's… I can't just stand by and do nothing while people suffer. That's all."
"You cannot silence all suffering." Archer rested her chin on her curled fist. "Nor should you want to. With strife comes wisdom, and then growth. Even the maiden knight understands this, though she makes a strong pretence of ignorance."
The phantom pain of straining his circuits stuttered down his spine. Even if he'd been doing it all wrong, as Tohsaka had yelled at him, he'd still learned a lot about enduring the limit. And yet…
"Even so." Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sat up and faced her. "When people can't help themselves, I want to be there for them."
A small twitch of her full lips. "And you have no other desires."
Shirou couldn't quite hold back a sigh. "Sakura already—"
"No." With one word (and a particular flavor of stare), she shut him down. "The girl told you to care for yourself for the sake of others. I speak of what you, yourself, care for."
A bitter taste settled on his tongue.
"What I want... isn't important," he said after a few moments.
I haven't earned that right.
"I see." She leaned back, once more the king watching from on high. "And you will find satisfaction in that."
"Doesn't really matter." He shrugged and laid down on his back once more to return to his routine. "Just gotta do it."
The silence was oppressive. Even as he ran through his bicycle kicks and then moved into lunges, Archer did not move. Her stare followed him the whole way. But Shirou was damn stubborn, and he refused to let it bother him. Eventually he managed to ignore the gaze and focus on keeping his breathing in a good rhythm. His heart pounded loudly in his ears.
But the rhythm faltered. The rustle of Archer rising from her seat snapped him back to the present. Her stare grew even more intense.
"This little contest makes an ideal testing ground for creed and cause," she stated, putting a hand on her hip. "It is a rare opportunity. Do not waste it."
With one final smirk and a flick of her hair, she was gone.
What I'm fighting against, huh?
Definitely not the other Masters, when he'd put himself on Illya's side while maintaining his alliance with Tohsaka. And he didn't want to fight Mitsuzuri either if he could help it, or whoever the Master of that black knight was.
The Servants, then? No, that couldn't be right either. They were all too nice. Well, maybe Avenger needed some time to warm up—err, cool down. But Illya was clearly fond of her, so she couldn't be that bad of a person. The Grail itself? How could that be an enemy? It was just a cup, wasn't it? Sure, it could grant wishes, but if they all agreed to put their wishes aside…
A vision came to him of Saber, radiant and stern in the moonlight. Whatever her unspoken wish, her heart was clearly set on it.
What am I going to do?
He still was mulling the problem over when the door creaked open again, admitting a cheerful Illya followed by a serene Saber.
"We're back, Master. I must say that the forest air is far more pleasant than the city sm—" The knight's conversational tone skittered to a halt. "Is everything alright?"
He blinked. Somehow he had put himself in plank position as his thoughts grew heavier and heavier.
Didn't realize it was instinctual by now.
"Did you require any aid in your exercises?" she added.
"Ah, no, I'm just wrapping up," he said hastily, but as he tried to rise, his arms collapsed under him. "Oof!"
How long have I been doing this for?
"Really." Illya folded her hands behind her back and tilted her head down towards him. "I'd say you're already finished."
"Oh, uh, sorry about this." Illya was probably unhappy with him ruining the carpet. He couldn't help but feel bad about it, even if it was the best place he'd found. "I just—"
"Made it easier for everyone to walk all over you?" Illya smiled sweetly at him. "No need for that, Oniichan. They all manage it just fine already."
"Hey!" Indignation made him roll over and frown at her. "I resent that!"
"Then maybe you should stand up," shrugged the girl.
"That's enough, young masters," Saber interrupted. "There is an important matter that demands our attention."
"Right." Clenching his jaw to hold back a groan, Shirou rose to his feet. "Say the word, Saber. I'm ready for anyth—"
A groaning rumble echoed from the Servant's stomach.
"...let me guess," he sighed. "The word is 'breakfast'."
Saber nodded earnestly. "If you would."
After a quick shower—which took care of the sweat, but unfortunately didn't conjure up a fresh shirt to wear—Shirou entered the kitchen. He took a single step towards the counter when one of the maids barred his way.
"The dining hall is that way, Master Shirou." She pointed towards the double doors on the other side.
"Ahh, thanks." He scratched his head. "I thought I might help out, though."
"Oh, good." The other maid looked up from where she was slicing apples, albeit slowly enough that it was more like vaguely gesturing at them with the knife. "Here, you can take over."
"Leysritt!" snapped the first before turning back to him. "Leave breakfast to us."
"Are you sure?" He looked over at the cast iron skillet and bowlful of batter laid out on the counter. "That looks like an interesting recipe. Is it some sort of cake—"
"Out, out!" She shooed him into the dining room. Shirou might have protested, but for the look in her red eyes that suggested she might find a different use for the skillet if he didn't get moving.
Sighing, he crossed the floor to join the people already sitting at the table. Despite being stuck in yesterday's clothes, Sakura still beamed at him the moment he walked in and went to pour him a cup of tea. Saber had somehow acquired a small bowl of oranges, which she was converting into a pile of peels at a frightening rate. Seated next to her, Illya looked considerably better than yesterday. Her shoulders were still a little slumped, but she was looking around the table rather than keeping her gaze fixed firmly at her feet. It helped that alone among them all, she was properly dressed and combed.
The same couldn't be said for Tohsaka, slumped over the table with her head buried in her arms. For the first time since he'd met her, her hair hung loose instead of in its customary twintails.
I knew she wasn't a morning person, but come on.
Watching Saber's assault on citrus prompted his stomach to gurgle. Luckily the smell of fried batter wafting from the kitchen promised something delicious. He was just settling back in his chair when his gaze strayed across the (possibly solid gold) clock on the mantelpiece.
Six-thirty. Still plenty of time to finish up a few chores and walk to—
Oh crap! They had travelled here by car after Illya arranged a ride from the burning manor, and it had been evening. Even so, Shirou judged that the walking distance from the castle to school had to be at least two hours, possibly more.
Biting the bullet seemed inevitable. He turned to Illya just as one of the maids—the apple cutter—placed what looked like a baked pancake in front of her mistress.
"Hey Illya. Do you think you could, uh…"
"Seriously?" Illya looked at him like he had asked to go bathe in nuclear waste. "You actually, really want to keep going to school?"
"It helps maintain cover." Sakura patted her sister on the shoulder. "Isn't that right, Neesan?"
A groan, like the sound of the unquiet dead.
"I don't wanna go," mumbled Tohsaka through her arms.
Shirou blinked.
"Neesan," chided Sakura as she forced her sister's fingers around a teacup, "You have to go. It will look suspicious if you skip school during the War, right?"
"Don't care. 'S'not much of a War anyway."
"The school idol is supposed to set a good example, you know." Sakura shook her head. "What would all your fans say?"
"Better than showing up looking like this." One of Tohsaka's hands vaguely waved to encompass her dishevelled hair and crumpled sweater. "Who ever heard of a homeless idol, anyway?"
Shirou sympathized, having lost his own home to the same dragon. But before he could offer any comforting words, Illya spoke again.
"If it's really that important to you," she said softly as she spread butter on her pancake, "then I can ask Sella to drive you."
"Thank you." He smiled warmly. "That means a lot."
Illya's eyes widened momentarily before she gave a curt nod. "It's fine. Just make sure you buckle your seatbelt. She can be a little… well, protective."
Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort escaped from the maid as she handed Shirou his plate. Illya's lips quirked into a small smile.
"No arguments here."
"Just forget it already!" Tohsaka raised her head far enough to glare into her cup. "We don't even have any uniforms anymore, so why—"
The castle's front door slammed open in a crash of thunder.
Shirou almost choked on his first bite of pancake. No, it can't be—
"Shiiiiiiiiiroooou!" roared the Tiger of Fuyuki. "If you don't get out here in five seconds, I'm going to get angry!"
"Hold on, hold on!" he yelled, jumping out from the table.
"Wait, wha—" Illya's jaw fell to the floor. "Who—what?!"
"Don't..." Tohsaka mumbled, her head falling back onto the table. "Just... don't. It's not worth it."
"But the castle's wards…"
The other's head turned from side to side. "Not worth it. Trust me on this."
"Sorry about this!" he blurted as he all-but-ran to the dining room door, but before he could even put his hand on the handle, it burst open, smacking him right in the forehead. "Agh!"
"There you are!" A whoosh of air hit his face as Fuji-nee thrust her shinai so it pointed directly between his eyes. "Thought you could escape your big sis, didja?"
"Fuji-nee," he began, rubbing his throbbing head, "How did you even find us here? We're in the middle of the forest hours outside of town, and I'm not sure there's even phone service—"
"Kiritsugu had your number when he put you in my charge." The shinai spun in her hands, revealing the familiar plastic tiger dangling from the hilt. "Tiger shinai charm! 'Find my idiot son wherever he sneaks off to'!"
"There's no way he—" Shirou didn't get to finish his sentence as Fuji-nee pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Don't you try to change the subject on me!"
"You started it!" He had to dodge another swipe of her shinai, which somehow managed to avoid hitting what must have been a priceless vase standing right next to him.
"And I'll finish it, too, if you don't explain yourself right now!"
"Would you stop jumping to conclusions?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry I didn't call earlier, but everything was a bit of a blur after Tohsaka's house burned down—ouch!"
"Again?!" Brown eyes glared suspiciously at him. "Admit it, you rapscoundrel!"
"That's not even a word—stop it!"
Distantly he heard the girls' voices behind him, but the wild beast in his face (and smacking him over the head!) commanded his attention.
"Setting fires, eh?" she huffed.
"What? Why on earth would I—"
"So you can sob-story your way into the next girl's bleeding heart. Moving house to house while you collect your harem." She spat the last word out like a curse.
"What."
"I thought I raised you better than this!" she wailed, fat tears rolling down her face. "I did my best to keep you on the straight and narrow! And this is how you repay me!?"
"It's not what you—"
"How could I ever look Kiritsugu in the face?"
"Says the woman who falls asleep in the middle of grading exams!" he retorted. "Now look, just let me explain—"
Shaking her head in despair at the youth of today, she strode past him into the dining room. "Fine! Let's see the poor girls you've suckered in with your masculine wiles."
"That's not even a thing!"
The teacher ignored him in favour of sweeping her gaze over the table. "Still stringing along Sakura and Tohsaka, eh? And taking advantage of Tohsaka's friend, too. For shame, Shirou!"
"Good morning to you too, Fujimura-sensei," Sakura said with a little smile. Tohsaka had somehow managed to compose herself to look almost normal, though her own smile was not holding up as well. Saber stared with wide eyes, speechless, while Illya's shellshock had only just begun to dissipate.
Yeah, Fuji-nee does that to you.
"Yes, good morning Sakura," she answered automatically before her blazing eyes settled on Illya. She considered her for barely a second before shaking her head. "That's fine. Even you wouldn't stoop that low."
She moved along before she could spot Illya's raised eyebrow and growing frown. Shirou felt another stone settle low in his belly. Fuji-nee, please stop.
No such luck. As soon as the tiger saw the maids standing by the kitchen door, she let out a thick growl. "Not fine! The moment I take my eye off you, you've gone and added two more!" He barely dodged another blow from her shinai. "Bad dog, Shirou! You're insatiable."
"Okay, that's a bit much!" This time he caught the wooden sword on his forearm, wincing but holding firm. "When did I ever come off to you as some... pervert or something!?"
"Then go on, Shirou!" Her finger jabbed under his nose. "Tell me you haven't played white knight to any of these innocent maidens, only to turn into a ravishing wolf?"
He wanted to tear his hair out. "Fuji-nee! For the last time, it isn't like that!"
"Oh? So you haven't put your paws on any of them?"
He opened his mouth, only to snap it shut when a memory of Sakura's soft skin brushed over his fingertips. His ears burned. And unfortunately, experience allowed Fuji-nee to read him like an open book.
"You did." There was actually a hint of shock in her statement. "Shirou, you…" Her eyes darted between the girls assembled in the room. "At least tell me it was Sakura."
If spontaneous combustion was possible, Shirou would have melted into the floor right there and then. In fact, he was begging for it. Face as hot as a bonfire, he looked towards Sakura, intending to silently plead her forgiveness.
But to his surprise, he was met with a light dusting of pink on her cheeks and a serene smile on her lips—wait, was that a hint of smugness there too?
Fuji-nee blew out a sigh of mingled relief and exasperation. "Okay, okay. We'll have the talk later. But just to make sure—no one else, right?"
Shirou would have loved to answer that question, but someone beat him to the punch.
"Yet." Archer's heels clacked as she strode in through the doorway. Her entire posture screamed 'delinquent queen' and 'lioness on the prowl'. Shirou instantly felt it deep in his bones that Fuji-nee's image of him was about to plummet into the sea.
What do I say, what do I do!?
"Fuji-nee, I swear I can explain."
"Shirou…" she growled dangerously.
He gulped.
"You managed to snag that knockout?" His adoptive sister sounded honestly impressed, if not entirely approving. "I… hmm. I underestimated you." Her grip tightened on her shinai. "Disciplinary action is definitely in order!"
"Unnecessary." Archer looked faintly amused as she locked eyes with Fuji-nee. "I have arranged everything. You need not concern yourself further."
Shirou braced himself. Here comes the eruption.
But to his astonishment, Fuji-nee only stared at the Servant for a few beats of his frantic heart before nodding sagely. "Ah, finally, a responsible adult. Then I'll leave Shirou in your care."
His jaw dropped, even as Fuji-nee cheerfully reached for an unguarded plate of buttered toast.
"You…" he began, then swallowed thickly. "You're, ah… you're really okay with this?"
"It's fine, it's fine!" she said between large chomps. "I'm sure Miss…"
"Archer," supplied Tohsaka flatly, her smile vanished completely. Little remained of the school idol.
"Miss Archer has the situation well in hand. Now, I brought uniforms for all three of you, so there's no excuse to skip school."
An appreciative nod from Sakura, and a stifled groan of despair from her sister. Shirou just wondered how on earth she'd gotten all their measurements.
Better not to ask.
"There's still one thing I can't approve of, though," Fuji-nee sniffed, crossing her arms.
"Ah. Yeah, we'll buy some new textb—"
"This castle is too far away!" His adoptive sister wailed. "Where am I going to get my breakfasts and dinners now? Shirou, do something about this!"
Oh, thank god. At least we have that.
Dark shirt and pale trousers, almost blending into the white silk of the sofa. Tumbling mane of gold, red wine that echoed the fierce eyes. Archer was entirely in her element, lounging in Lady Illasyviel's house with the same arrogant carelessness she had used in her own Master's.
Artoria gritted her teeth. "And you are entirely unconcerned that…" Lady Rin, but best put it into language that Archer would understand, "... your anchor is at school today without escort."
The indolent king merely took another sip, lips lingering on her glass in what had to be deliberate provocation.
"Well?" Artoria snapped despite herself, angrily aware that she was likely giving the other exactly what she wanted.
Archer languidly swallowed, then red eyes flicked towards her. "I bestowed a protection charm upon my handmaiden." A regal shrug of shoulders. "That should be more than sufficient, unless of course she is truly too incompetent to live."
Such callousness towards her ally! Worse, her ward! Artoria's fingers tightened before she forced them to relax. This conduct was to be expected from a tyrant, and in truth, Archer was positively delightful compared to some of the lords she had once supped with. Including, memorably if most unpleasantly, another version of the very tyrant sitting before her.
If nothing else, she could grudgingly admit that the present one was fairer in general character than the king she'd crossed swords with before the end, before that man ruined everything. Oh, there was the same haughtiness and naked greed she'd so hated, and if anything even more vanity. But as much as that smirk made Artoria's blood boil, it lacked the casual cruelty that had marred the other's. The crimson gaze spoke more of curiosity than contempt, whatever dismissive words rang from the proud mouth.
That didn't stop frustration from prickling up Artoria's spine every time the other opened said mouth, though. Or stop the spite she kept having to swallow down as unworthy of a self-respecting king.
Come, Artoria. Make another attempt. Her self-chastisement took on a voice half-remembered among pink petals. If your Master can extend an open palm to Lady Illyasviel after losing two homes to her, surely you can bring reason to this egotist.
She took another moment to consider, then tried again. "I would remind you that Caster and Rider are still at large. And while they may be somewhat known to you," since Archer still withheld details of the former Servant, "that black knight remains…"
Her voice trailed off when the tyrant put aside her glass and rose from the sofa.
"If you are so worried about the scurrying of ants," she said, striding to the hall, "then I permit you to survey the anthill while accompanying me."
The fire chattered.
"Have you not done enough sight-seeing?" frowned Artoria, though she willingly followed after her. Someone had to keep an eye on Archer.
"Stay and entertain yourself if you wish," the arrogant voice answered from the corridor. "It makes no difference to me."
Part of Artoria leapt at the thought of staying behind to share tea with Lady Illyasviel as she once had with her mother. She could sit in warmth and soak up the rapport they were tentatively establishing—
No. That was a selfish, disgraceful impulse. Shaking her head, she doggedly tailed the other Servant past the heavy oak doors into the crisp winter morning, only slightly overcast.
"I shall not spur what is surely a rare invitation," she said, lifting her lip in a wry smile, "And since you cannot be trusted to share your observations, I have no choice but to make my own."
"I am sure your inane babbling will provide some amusement, if nothing else." Brushing her hair idly over her shoulder, Archer marched towards what Artoria recognized as the castle's garage and strode in.
It took a moment for the Saber's eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, then another when the lightbulb finally kicked on. A golden motorcycle stood on the concrete floor, as ostentatious as its owner. Even so, the sight of the vehicle reminded her of another conveyance, on a desperate night long ago, and bitterness rose in her throat.
The black Mercedes parked behind it was another matter. That brought memories of white hair streaming in the wind from an open window, a delighted grin and an abused gas pedal.
Archer had barely straddled the motorcycle when Artoria raised a hand for attention. "One moment. If I am to accompany you, then I suggest we journey in comfort. Would that be agreeable, King of Heroes?"
A golden eyebrow raised, but the other king straightened on the seat of the motorcycle, bringing both legs over to the side closest to Artoria. "Quite presumptuous of you, maiden knight. Then go on." She motioned with a hand. "Show me."
That condescension bristled the hairs at the back of Artoria's neck, but only a little. It scarcely mattered in the face of her acquiescence. "Then I beg your patience. I shall return shortly."
A short walk back to the castle, a quick discussion with Lady Illyasviel, and Saber returned with a car key held proudly in her hand. A grin pulled at the corners of her mouth as she opened her palm to show the other blonde.
"The car affords more leg space, and a better vantage point to survey the town." She cocked her head towards the Mercedes. "Shall I drive?"
Not that she had any intention of surrendering the key, but a ruler's words should always be courteous.
"Hmm." The King of Heroes' eyes hadn't moved after locking onto her as soon as she entered the room. Artoria tensed. She had let herself relax the slightest inch, was Archer about to seize a mile?
The other king stood up. "As long as you do not go below the speed limit."
Artoria couldn't help it. She grinned.
"I think I can agree to that."
The car flew down the road, barely touching ground as stone paving turned into tarmac. Scenery whipped by at lightning speed as Artoria weaved in and out of lanes. A pleasant adrenaline hummed in her veins as trees gave way to fields, then the first buildings of Miyama town. It felt like all too soon that the inevitable glut of vehicles forced her to slow.
Archer had delivered clipped directions as she climbed into the passenger seat, then stayed mercifully silent through the trip, contenting herself with staring out the window. Her mood had been pensive rather than melancholic however, and so Artoria had been satisfied enough humming along to the folk songs warbling out from the radio. Perhaps an odd fit with 'breakneck speed', but Artoria found they provided a welcome contrast. Soothing and nostalgic, to take the edge off exhilaration until the impromptu journey became a meditation of sorts. If she closed her eyes, she could almost have imagined herself in green fields upon Dun Stallion's back, even if his canter had been nothing like the engine's rumble.
Archer's grip on her shoulder shattered the illusion.
"Turn here." An imperious finger pointed towards a side street bordering a park, pale green trees and brick paths under the weak winter sun.
Biting back a (perhaps unearned) grumble, she eased the car down the road and parked near the entrance gate. Treacherous instincts had her stepping out and halfway towards Archer's door before she forced herself to a stop.
Why should I open it for her? She may be a woman, but she's certainly no lady.
She could still feel Tristan's disapproving stare reach across the centuries to bore into the back of her neck.
Of course, Archer didn't care one bit, exiting the car in one graceful motion, already walking away as if she knew where she was going. Nothing to do but follow, then. Wrapping her borrowed jacket more tightly around her shoulders to ward off the wind, she quickened her pace until they were walking side by side.
Leaves rustled as Archer led them down the path towards whatever destination she had in mind, head held high even as the gazes of passersby trailed after her. Artoria held her silence in turn. Archer would speak whenever she deemed it the right time. In the meantime, she was free to drink in a city she had never thought she'd see again.
The path crossed a few smaller streets, lined with traffic signs that her guide unsurprisingly ignored, always leading closer towards the Mion river. Soon the red bridge that connected the two halves of Fuyuki came into view, its spine stretching across the water.
Still Archer said nothing, and Artoria found her mind pulling up unwanted memories as they approached the concrete shore, lined with fencing and lampposts. Their light faded in the sun, but she could all too well remember how they glowed yellow in the evening gloom. And behind them, rising from the currents to blot out the new moon…
A giant of writhing shadows and tentacles, erupting from dark spray to tower over the arch of the bridge. A shrill voice echoing in the night, calling down threats and blasphemies on an indifferent god.
The water had been dark that night, then darker still when it ran with blood and ichor. Artoria's eyes were drawn down past the barred railings as she set foot on the cobble brick of the bridge's pedestrian walkway. Distantly she registered that she had fallen behind the golden king, but she slowed further, her gaze fixed on the rippling waves. The sun was a little brighter now, sparkling off the blue-green water.
"It does look far different by daylight," she murmured to herself. "I'm glad."
However… dissatisfied she found herself with the current state of the War, at least she had not witnessed anything near the heart-wrenching ugliness of the previous one.
Yet, whispered another voice from memory, this one sly and sinuous.
Her fist curled. She would not let it come to that. Not this time.
A noise of struck metal drew her attention. Her brow raised—Archer had leapt up to walk on the railing. Every time her thin heels hit the iron, they made the sound of a small bell ring out, over and over again. Every step was precise and calculated. Obnoxiously so.
"Does that afford you a better view of the battlefield?" she asked drily, even as she slightly hastened her steps to catch up without giving the impression of running after the other.
"I am taking a walk, little knight." That smirk. What would it take to kill it? "I am enjoying the wind and the view."
Once again, the faint scent of flowers ghosted across Artoria's face. This conversation, if she could charitably call it that, reminded her of another life. Another figure, leading her through forests and streams, always with a purpose he would cheerfully deny having.
"Of course," she sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. "And what part of that view would you have me focus on?"
"Whatever captures you," the Servant replied. When Artoria waited for her to elaborate, she merely kept walking, her stride perfectly balanced.
Unfortunately, this too was uncomfortably familiar. Shaking her head, Artoria instead let her eyes drift to the other people crossing the bridge on a winter morning. An eldery man, tucked in too deep into his coat to notice either wind or prancing king as he passed them. A young couple gazing out over the water and talking in soft voices.
At peace.
The peace she had always wanted for her own people, the dream of which shattered red long before Camlann.
Not this time, she repeated to herself, and kept walking.
To her surprise, Archer's pace slowed once they left the bridge and crossed onto the asphalt streets and crowded buildings of Shintou. The golden king looked entirely untroubled, a lioness roaming through her veldt as the whim took her. Artoria almost envied that easy stride, even if it said much about the woman's presumption.
Though there was undeniably something soothing about the bustle of the market stalls, bright chatter and money changing hands in a way that wasn't all that different from the country fairs of her youth. The glass windows of the shops caught her eye with fanciful clothes and goods.
Artoria's boots came to a halt. Now she was the one forgetting her purpose, sight-seeing when she should be on her guard. At the very least…
Master. Closing her eyes, she reached out across the gossamer thread of mana that connected to her partner. Is everything well?
A pause, in which her breath seized for the briefest moment.
Saber? Yeah, everything's fine. Just eating lunch. Why?
A rumble in her stomach reminded Artoria she had yet to have her own repast. She forced it away. It is my duty to keep you safe. Should you notice anything amiss, do not hesitate to call on me.
Yeah, yeah, of course. Have a good day, Saber.
A little smile tugged at her lips. As casually as he'd probably intended the sentiment, it had been a long time since someone had wished her as much, and meant it.
Freed of immediate worry, she breathed in the air and sunshine. A faint scent of something delicious hit her nostrils, spice and coffee and freshly baked bread. Artoria followed its siren song through jingling doors into a small bakery. The display case near the front held a large selection of breads and rolls, but it was the small pastries cunningly shaped like animals that commanded her attention. Red foxes, yellow-winged ducks and… oh, a lion, with adorably large eyes and a fluffy mane of dough.
Her hands pressed eagerly against the glass before she even realized it.
"Can I help you, young lady?"
The baker looked amused as he waited patiently behind the counter.
"Ah, yes. I'd like a…" she pointed towards the little creatures. "That one. The lion, please."
"The marzipan? A good choice, my son baked them fresh this morning."
The treat had already been slipped into a brown paper bag before the matter of payment dawned on Artoria. Anxiously she rummaged in her skirt's pocket, then exhaled in relief when she drew out a handful of coins, survivors of her last shopping trip with Shirou. She had meant to return them at the next opportune time, but…
Surely he wouldn't mind a tiny indulgence, would he? He had told her to have a good day. And it would be rude to deny the baker after he'd already wrapped it up, wouldn't it?
The coins were exchanged, the parcel handed over. Artoria walked back out into the early afternoon, tipping the lion into her palm and admiring it. It smelled deliciously sweet, the little paws sticky on her skin, but she couldn't bring herself to take a bite. Not when it looked so beseechingly at her with its black button eyes.
A growl from her belly. Maybe the lion didn't need a tail—
"Hm." The chuckle stopped Artoria's hand right before the treat entered her mouth. "Even you cannot hide the honesty of your appetite."
Embarrassment briefly flushed over her face before she remembered who she was dealing with. With deliberate slowness, she took a large bite of the pastry and savoured it
"If we are visiting the town, it is natural to partake of its delicacies," she said loftily after a while. "If the sight makes you wish for one of your own, we can return to the shop."
"Why did you want it?"
Artoria paused in chewing her second mouthful.
Because it made me laugh. Because for a moment, I felt a little warmer looking at it.
Hastily she swallowed, then fixed Archer with a suspicious look. "Why does that matter to you?"
"Perhaps I am considering whether I will get one for myself." Archer raised an eyebrow. "Is it a treasured secret to you?"
"I have never known you to hesitate in seizing what catches your fancy," said Artoria with a touch of bitterness. Sighing, she slipped the hindquarters—all that remained of the lion—back into the bag. "But if you must know, it reminded me of a friend."
"Mm." Crimson eyes turned to the horizon. "There is much to be said for a true friend. Little wonder that time is so eager to snatch them from us."
A few moments passed while Artoria considered her response. Before she hit on any words that didn't feel like lead in her mouth, Archer strode down the pavement with her blonde mane whipping behind her. Artoria exhaled and walked by her side as silence fell between them again, broken only by the dull rumble of Fuyuki's early afternoon traffic.
Plenty of time for Artoria's thoughts to stray from the city sights to the golden king next to her, surveying everything with a detached air. That jaded look fit well on the proud woman—a little too well. It made it easy to imagine she'd been born with it.
But that wasn't the case, was it? Even golden Gilgamesh, issue of man and divinity, had been a fresh-faced girl once. Artoria blinked, struggling to reconcile that image with the king's swagger.
As she did, a hundred questions bubbled up inside her. Had Archer ever wandered stream and field, watched the sheep at play or picked flowers in the woodlands? Or had she been shrouded in silk and gold from her earliest steps, guided by traditions and expectations as heavy as any chain? This Gilgamesh, at least, did not seem to have learned cruelty at her teachers' hands. Yet that only fed Artoria's curiosity. What did it mean, to be raised as the Wedge of Heaven, the bridge between gods and men? And what had it meant, to walk away from it all with head held high?
"Miss?"
Unthinkable. And yet… Artoria had been presented with a choice, and taken it with her eyes open. Had Archer ever been given the same?
"Ah, miss? Here, please take one."
"Eh?" She was brought back from her thoughts by a paper flyer dancing across her vision. Caught shamefully off guard, her fingers automatically accepted the item as a young man in a suit thrust it at her.
"Grand opening of the Garden of Sinners!" he chirped, beaming at her. "Fuyuki's hottest new nightclub! Drop by tomorrow night, and I'll personally make sure you and your lovely friend get treated right."
"Thank you," said Artoria with ingrained courtesy even as she tried to hand the flyer back. "I'm afraid we have other plans for the evening, however."
Trying to explain that she and Archer could not, under any circumstances, be considered friends—allies of convenience, at best—seemed a wasted effort considering the gleam in the man's eye.
A tap of heel against pavement. Archer was looking at her with... expectation? What was she asking for?
"Would you reconsider, miss?" the man wheedled. "VIP treatment and your choice of drinks."
Artoria pursed her lips. Even beyond the War and its nightly call to battle, the offer held little appeal. The flyer's searing pinks and blues made her eyes water, the man had a jackal's smile, and the knowledge gleaned from the Grail supplied her a vision of bodies pressed tight, bitter alcohol, and loud music.
Firmly she shook her head. "No. And I would ask that you not trouble us further with this matter."
Her formality seemed to take the man aback. Before he could press his case further, she handed him the flyer back one last time. When he didn't take it, she let it drift to the ground, turning on her heel and walking away without another word.
She was halfway towards the next intersection when she remembered to glance over her shoulder to locate Archer. A small knot in her stomach eased when she spotted the golden king sauntering along a little ways back, relief chased by a sour aftertaste.
"Have you nothing to say, Archer?" she asked, ignoring the testiness she could hear in her own voice. "Did I correctly divine your intent?"
"Come now, Saber," the other Servant said. "I believe you intelligent enough to secure that answer without my coddling you."
Feed petty provocations with silence, my king, whispered a silky voice from the past.
Gritting her teeth to hold back a sharp—but oh so satisfying—riposte, Artoria strode along the street without another glance back. An alliance did not oblige her to play Archer's games, or tolerate her deplorable character. Better to immerse herself yet again in Fuyuki and its inhabitants, the city that her Master called home.
She was beginning to tire of the storefronts and stalls when a bookstore caught her eye, enticing her with a lord's ransom in printed works. Approaching the glass, she found herself staring at a cover illustration of unfamiliar tools placed against a pale plank of willow.
"Woodworking the Traditional Way?" she read aloud, pressing in for a closer look.
Nostalgia curled in her chest when she spotted the simple knife near the book's spine. Memories of stolen afternoons by the pond, lazily whittling at a small bit of pine while dragonflies buzzed overhead. Kay boxing her ears and mocking her attempt at a horse, then presenting her with a freshly sharpened blade the next day.
"So here, too," she murmured to herself, lowering her hand to hang by her side. A little patch of sunlight, bound in paper and made readily accessible to everyone, judging from the ordinary people walking in and out of the shop.
Tomes of knowledge had been precious things in Camelot, painstakingly bound and fiercely guarded. To see them so numerous, handled by commoners as if they were everyday things… something fluttered in her stomach at the sight, followed by a nameless ache.
"Another indulgence," Artoria muttered to herself.
She stepped in anyway, the store's bell jingling merrily above her.
The attendant behind the counter looked like she was about to say something, but a single look at Archer had her rooted to her seat, first staring and then nodding with hurried politeness.
Of course, Artoria sighed inwardly with mingled exasperation and just a touch of amusement. Mostly because while the golden king took such admiration as her due, she didn't seem to wield it as a weapon.
"You there!" Archer snapped her fingers imperiously in the attendant's general direction. "Bring me your most excruciatingly disgusting romances."
Except when she does. Artoria glowered briefly at the back of that blonde mane while the flustered attendant stuttered before vanishing into the backroom. The knight huffed and went searching for the book she had spotted in the window.
Fortunately the shop was well-organized by subject, and it wasn't long before she had the woodworking book in hand. She let the pages fan between her fingers, enjoying the unfamiliar but pleasant scent of paper and new ink. So different from the books she remembered, with their browning pages and faintly sweet aroma of age.
She had what she came for, but a glance at the counter found Archer still locked in discussion.
"This will not do." An implacable hand pushed a novel carelessly to the side of the shop counter. "The maiden's expression is insufficiently simpering."
"Really? But that's Kadokawa's trashiest… that is, ah…" The woman looked towards the shelves and considered. "Perhaps you would find something to your tastes among our shoujo light novels, then?"
"Oho? Show me."
Clearly up to some treachery. The fingers of Artoria's free hand tightened into a fist before she forced them to relax. How much damage could even Archer commit with simple words on page, already available for anyone who cared to pick them up?
Ignoring the nagging smirk she could feel on the edge of her memory, Artoria drifted through the shelves, eagerly skimming titles as each presented itself to her. Deep River looked like a philosophical story, while Strange Weather in Tokyo suggested romance. But then there were the volumes on mythology, with strange creatures unknown yet striking unfurled across their covers.
Artoria had never considered herself greedy, but she found herself regretting she had only one pocketful of bills to her name.
"Wha—really?" The clerk's voice carried down the shelves. "That's what you want?"
"I will accept nothing better." Archer's arrogance echoed off the walls. "This appears to be suitably terrible. Now—this era's most degenerate tale of concubinage."
The knight didn't drop her book, but it was a near thing.
"Err... okay, maybe, uh..."
As the clerk rushed to the shelves, Artoria stalked over to the counter and stared down at the books strewn across its surface.
"The Earl and the Fairy," she said flatly, shooting a baleful look at the closest novel. A cat in a ridiculous ribbon sat perched on a girl's shoulder, while the man behind her wore a nauseating smirk. "Well. As we are... allies," her face twisted as if she had swallowed a dagger, "I shall not question your interests, however dubious."
"You are welcome to enjoy it yourself if it captures you so," Archer replied, turning to her with that ever-present smirk. "But do wait your turn—my handmaiden has the right of first conquest."
"Is even reading a battle for you, tyrant king?" She knew she should drop the matter—by the rules of war, what passed between Archer and her Master did not involve her—yet as if in an evil dream, she saw her fingers close on the novel and turn it over.
"Lydia Carlton is a fairy doctor, one of the few people with the ability to see the magical creatures who share our world. During one of her rare trips to London…" Artoria trailed off as a sour taste bloomed on her lips. "Is this another of your jokes?"
It wasn't the least bit amusing.
"Come now, little knight. Don't you think you should learn a little more about the land you left?"
"Somehow I doubt the sincerity of your selection." Disdainfully she dropped the novel back on the counter.
"Then find one yourself." Artoria glanced over to find an unexpected seriousness in Archer's gaze. "The only thing worse than arrogance is arrogance born from ignorance."
"I would not speak of arrogance, King of Heroes," Artoria gritted out. "Not when you wear it as if it were priceless jewels."
But the other Servant dismissed her with a wave of the hand, instead turning to the clerk as she approached once more. "Well? What have you to offer me?"
"I... think this might be what you're looking for?"
Artoria left them to it and returned to browsing the shelves, a far more satisfying activity than being condescended to. Yet she found herself walking past cookbooks and animal husbandry guides, looking for histories. Archer was infuriating, but she wasn't entirely wrong. Artoria knew shamefully little about what had befallen her kingdom in the centuries since she had left it in ruins. The Fourth War had spared her no time, but now, against all expectation and reason, she appeared to have it in abundance.
Cambridge History of England. The thick, studious-looking text looked promising enough. After a quick glance at the table of contents—the Hundred Years' War?—she added it to her selections, though not without some misgivings.
No. I swore that I would right my mistakes. Knowing what suffering my wish shall banish will give me courage on my path.
Steeling her jaw, she marched towards the counter and set her purchases down next to the cash register.
"I will take both," she declared, drawing money from her pocket as if there were no question that she could pay for a dozen such volumes. Hopefully the small fistful of faded bills would be enough, or she would shortly be chewing her pride.
Please, Master. Save the honour of your sword.
"Right away, miss." The clerk looked almost relieved at the sober-looking covers when she rang them through. "Oh, but there's no need for payment. I mean, this coin your friend paid with feels like solid gold!"
A pristine coin shone next to her hand, Archer's profile neatly embossed on the side.
"She is not my…" Artoria began to protest before a wave of mental fatigue crashed over her. What was the use? "My thanks."
She really hoped Shirou was in charge of dinner tonight.
On a normal day, Rin would have had no problem keeping up the school idol persona that she wore like a blazer. On a normal day, Rin could have gone home right after school, or perhaps chatted with Ayako until club responsibilities called her away. On a normal day, Rin would be able to, at the very least, come to school not feeling like a worn cleaning rag after a particularly large dinner.
It didn't have to be said that Rin had not known many normal days since the onset of the Grail War.
"Whew. I'm glad school at least seems normal." Shirou's bag swung lightly against his hip as they crossed Homurahara's paved courtyard. "I didn't sense anything off."
"What would a third rate like you know?" she groused, but without any real heat. The idiot was full of hidden talents, ones that she would have to tease out at some point.
When she'd gotten more sleep, and several cups of tea. And most importantly, the Grail in her grasp. At least, that's what should have been most important. Right now, caffeine took pride of place in her mind.
I wonder... if I put Earl Grey in the Grail... would that magically strengthen it?
"I'm a little worried about Mitsuzuri-senpai," said Sakura, and if there was any silver lining to this whole fiasco, it was the way her sister's shoulders held straight instead of curling in on themselves. "She put on a brave face, but I caught her yawning at practice."
"She's a participant now, you know." Rin smiled thinly as they neared the gates. "She may have been patrolling all night."
As we should have been, if we hadn't been drop dead tired. But no point beating herself up about it. Heading out while exhausted was just asking for sloppy mistakes, and Rin had almost paid for the last one with her life. She stretched the phantom pain from her fingers.
"Maybe it's the homework Kuzuki-sensei has been piling on everyone," mused Shirou. "Even Issei looked tired out."
"Tch. That guy's always overworking himself." Rin tossed her hair over one shoulder. "I don't dislike hard workers, but he's got no sense of fun whatsoever."
"Are you really one to talk, Neesan?"
Smirks were a lot less fun when someone else was wearing one. Much as Rin approved of Sakura's slowly blossoming confidence, that didn't mean there weren't some resulting irritants.
"I work hard but I also play hard," she declared, chin held high. "If you have any doubts, why don't I show you tomorrow?"
The batting cages perhaps, or the arcade. Too late, Rin realized that wherever they went, it was all too likely that at least someone they knew would spot them. Word filtered fast in Fuyuki's gossip networks. If the school's male populace learned that Shirou had been on a date with not one, but two of Homurahara's flowers, the burning stares currently directed at the back of his oblivious head would feel like tiny pinpricks compared to what would scour him then.
Honestly. Rin really should do some damage control, before her carefully curated reputation fell to pieces around her. Then again, keeping aloof hadn't saved either Shirou or Ayako from falling headfirst into her affairs. Worse, rather than protecting Sakura through distance, it had been downright cruel to her.
The dignity of the Tohsaka, then? A knot twisted in Rin's stomach. That was what Father had impressed on her, but looking at Sakura's smiling face… that didn't seem to matter quite so much.
The knot loosened a little. Not entirely, but enough that she could breathe again.
Her stomach rumbled. It was a little early for dinner, but it had been a rough day. And maybe Saber was onto something when she'd declared hunger the enemy. At the least, a snack might pick her spirits up.
"I suppose you've both been working hard," she declared aloud. "I could be persuaded to grab a bite to eat, if you insist."
"If you're hungry, just say so," said Shirou with a good-natured shrug. "Then let's stop for ramen."
"We had udon last night." Sakura cast an appraising eye over the local shops as they walked towards the market district. "But something warm would be good. Maybe Chinese food?"
Rin smiled. Even if it rarely came up to her admittedly exacting standards, the familiar burn of peppercorn chicken sounded great about now.
"Hey, is that a new restaurant?" Shirou pointed to the unfamiliar sign hanging outside one of the local shops. "Szechuan cuisine."
"Not a bad idea," said Rin. "I could murder some kung pao chicken right now."
Feeling her mood lift at the prospect, Rin cheerfully steered her companions under the red awning and through the door. The place was small but neatly kept, with a row of red stools in front of a long counter. Delicious smells wafted from the door in the back that, judging from the hiss of cooking oil and the clang of utensils, led to the kitchen. Ignoring the slumming salarymen sitting immediately across, Rin strode over to the stools on the left side and took a seat.
"Let's see…" She glanced up at the menu scrawled in chalk on the wall. "Hot and sour soup… spicy eggplant… crispy beef… shrimp fried rice..."
"T-the Yangchaow fried rice is the f-favorite," sobbed a voice by her side. A horribly familiar voice. "Fifteen orders! Today alone!"
No. It can't be.
"Are you okay, miss…?" began Shirou, looking startled at the bat-eared hoodie slumped over the counter.
"Stop! Stop!" Rin muscled her way between the boy and Assassin with rather less than her usual grace. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"Drowning my sorrows," sniffed the Servant, her glasses fogged with tears. "With tea. Not even any Ramune. And I wanted the limited edition Doraemon one!"
"Neesan," asked Sakura, leaning over. "Do you know this person?"
"Unfortunately," she snapped.
Assassin's mournful look sharpened as soon as she set eyes on Shirou. "Oh, woe is me! I don't even have the time to buy some of my precious Pocky."
"Pocky?" Shirou scratched the back of his neck. "That shouldn't take long. I saw a FamilyMart just down the street."
"Arigathanks for volunteering!" She grabbed his hands and clasped them with a grip that, from the boy's pained expression, must have been iron. "Make sure you get cookies and cream!"
"Ah, sure." He reached for his wallet. "How many packs—"
"Senpai, no." Sakura reached over and pushed his hand down. "She's taking advantage of you. Remember what we talked about?"
"Ah, right, sorry," Shirou replied before turning back to the bat-eared hoodie, optimistically tilted in his direction. "Err, I'm sure you'll be able to get some soon enough?"
"Tch." Assassin clicked her tongue and leaned onto the countertop.
"Here." Rin dragged an old bag of Hi-Chew candies from the bottom of her bag. "Take these, and consider yourself in my debt."
"Sold!" Assassin grabbed the bag and shamelessly tore it open with her teeth. Her mouth openly watered as she unwrapped a square and shoved it into her mouth,
Or tried to. The candy came to a halt a short distance from her lips.
"Even this!?" she roared, slamming her fist down onto the countertop. "Why do you hate me so much, Master!?"
...excuse me?
"Your Master ordered this?" Rin asked.
"With a command seal!" Assassin moaned, her forehead crashing next to her fist. "He tortures me every single day... worse than the MapleStory grind..."
"What the hell does that even—never mind, that's not what's important here! Who the hell would waste a command seal on that?"
The door to the kitchen opened, and her heart stopped.
"New customers—" Dark eyes creased in rotten pleasure. "Ah, Rin. How good of you to visit at last."
Kotomine Kirei grinned. Assassin's wail rent the air. And Rin's jaw fell to the floor.
"What the fu—"
Minerva's note: I'd like to be clear on something, since there seems to be a misunderstanding among some of you. This is not a Shirou/Fem!Gil/Harem story. This is not even Shirou-centric. I'd hope that the first chapter would have made that clear, but sometimes myself and Tunko are a bit too subtle for our own good, it seems. Shirou is a main character, yes, and he is the only male in the pack, yes, but this is Gil's story, not his. Hopefully this clarified a few things. Thanks for reading.
TC's note: Now if someone could please explain that to Taiga before she somehow crashes into the Greater Grail's cave and yells Angra Mainyu into submission. In all seriousness though, thank you for sticking with us despite the delays between chapters, we really appreciate it! And as always, many thanks to Kat, our long-suffering beta reader.