She felt it, tearing within her. There was a sense of a small child, like a fetus inside her abdomen, clawing, trying to get out. It kept on calling to her, telling her "No, I must be born! I am you and everything you want, and nothing outside of me is real! Give me, give me, give me everything!"
How could she refuse it? It felt so beautiful. She knew she shouldn't want it, but she also knew that there was something of Senpai in it, and so she could not let it go. But she also knew that it was something new, and thus could not be spoken of, for if she said anything it might crumble into the nothingness that she felt it must surely be. For if it was something she felt, and she was such a weak, meaningless person, then anything she felt must be equally empty and void.
But she realized now that she had to bring herself away, and face what was before her. She saw a table, and that beautiful Servant there.
Her breath hitched, and an entirely different, but much more welcome, feeling erupted in her abdomen. A warmth. It longed for something to be there with it, to hold it and be held.
She pushed it down, and wore the face of steel, of red glory that she had only recently acquired. "Well, Archer? What updates do you bring?"
The Servant looked at her, his eyes trying to penetrate her mask. But she would not let them.
He cleared his throat; a purely cosmetic gesture, which struck her as very kind. It was nice of him to think of her comfort, and to put time into making himself more personable. She did love that about him, how he always thought of her. It reminded her of Senpai, how he would put her first. How he would let her do whatever she wanted with his body, even letting her take all of him inside herself, taking everything that was in him and loving it.
"Master," he said. His voice made her smile. She didn't know why, but it did. "We have several targets." He pointed to a map he had drawn on the table. Fine work, as befit him. "There's the warehouse. I have reason to believe that Lancer is using it as a base of operations; he seems always to retreat in its direction, no matter where in the city I engage him."
Sakura knew that some women would appreciate the dog-like Servant, but it wasn't for her. He was too light. She wanted serious power on top of her. Coming out of her.
He checked to see if she had any reactions, and seeing none, went to the second point on the map. "This is the temple. It should be fairly apparent to you that it is a center of magical energy, a point d'appui for anyone trying to obtain the Grail through… means more clever than simple elimination of competitors. Naturally, this makes it perfect as a hideout for Caster."
"Do you know anything about Caster, or his Master?" Sakura asked.
Archer shrugged, as if there was nothing more serious at stake than semantics. "Can't say I do. I'm not even entirely sure that Caster's there in the first place. I couldn't get into the temple grounds; there's some sort of anti-Servant barrier there, but damned if I could prove that it's a product of enemy Servant activity. For all I know it's just a natural occurrence due to the peculiarity of the ley lines, or maybe it's a defence mechanism put in place centuries ago by Mages to protect their workshops from spiritual invasion. Your guess is as good as mine, girl."
Sakura considered this. She didn't care much for Lancer, but Caster represented an unknown quantity, and there was something in her moving her to push her boundaries. To experience things she never before had, to see new perspectives, and make them a part of her worldview. Maybe it was just an extension of her newfound preoccupation with building new masks?
No, that wasn't something she could sustain in the long-term. She wasn't built for that; it required a stronger sense of apathy toward the world, and Sakura felt nothing but pathos.
She felt everything pulling her, everything saying that it is what it is and demanding she recognize it. She felt even the table telling her how wooden it is, and her own clothes begging to be torn off. She felt all this energy, and almost forgot to put her mask on tightly enough to stop her Servant from noticing.
She knew that if she didn't reestablish… something (she had no idea what), she might lose her progress.
But maybe that was just because she'd been held in this house for so long? She hadn't even left the building since her search for Senpai on the grounds a week earlier. Archer had been doing all the work for her, while she stayed inside and… it would be wrong to say she contemplated anything about her situation.
Her thinking function, her intellect, was barely alive at all. No, Sakura could only feel. Any thoughts she had were entirely subordinated, enslaved by the tremendous emotionality invading her from without.
And all the while, this thing inside her, this beautiful black beast in her abdomen, which she could only envision when in the throes of feverish delirium, or dreams that should have tortured her but instead pleasured her greater than she ever had been, was so very impatient with her.
She made her excuses to the Servant, and went to bed, hoping that these feelings would just resolve themselves inside her, so she could wake and get to what she needed to do.
She closed her eyes, her purple locks tickling her eyes.
She opened her eyes, and immediately knew something was wrong. There was nothing around her, only perfect whiteness. She sat up, and knew that she was in a place she wasn't supposed to be.
This was someone else's world.
Not hers.
Hers could never be so…
She stood, and started walking in the perfect, pure void.
She began to despair that she would ever escape, and then she rejoiced, the little voice inside of her jubilant at her miraculous find.
For what lay before her was that sweet, sickly red of a man's blood.
Like a stain of red feces, it discoloured the scene. And she was so happy to see something like herself in this empty world.
She bent down, soaked her fingertips in it, and licked them.
It tasted like pain. It made her feel sick, and she vomited. What came out of her was fully black, and it covered the red of the blood.
She thought she would stop after a single heave, but instead the vomit kept flowing. It poured out of her throat, burning her esophagus, but despite the pain she felt better than she ever had. She felt that this was right, at least for her and who she was, to be this passive vessel, or conduit.
She knew that the ultimate source of the black mud that was now filling this seemingly infinite expanse, enough to cover her feet in the sea, could not be in her. For she was just a finite being; how could she contain all this?
The sea level continued to rise, until it covered her breasts, and then her neck. At this point she could no longer bend forward to let it flow from her, and just stood erect as it fell to join its great mass all around.
The thought occurred to her that she might drown.
Did she want Senpai to save her?
The sea lapped at her chin, and she realized something that changed everything.
She didn't need Senpai to save her from the sea.
Senpai was the sea.
She laughed, the sounds coming gurgling out of her throat, as the sea finally swallowed her head.
All she could see anymore was Senpai's smiling face, telling her she did good, and he wouldn't need to punish her anymore.
When she woke, she felt the contradiction. How could Senpai ever not need to punish her? She was so bad, so very, very dirty, that the thought made no sense to her. It was absurd; how could she, as a corrupt vessel of impurity, ever be accepted by another? And even if that were to happen, how could she accept that acceptance? It would just be another sin to add to her list: Defying Senpai, and Destroying his good purity.
What a stupid girl I am. Even when I try to do the right thing in life, my dreams come to take it all away from me.
She sat up in bed, the sheets pulled over her disgusting chest, and was more relieved than annoyed to see the red-clad man standing before her.
He looked at her with near-pity. "I know I had told you before to stay in bed, but I worry that you're just doing it to spite me at this point." He patted the disheveled bedclothes. "When was the last time you changed these things?"
Sakura was, naturally, naked under the sheets. Even when she went to sleep clothed, she found that her clothes were always off by the time she woke. Half the time, she found her fingers inside herself, as if moved there by unconscious forces while she slept. She usually kept them in there, and finished what her sleeping self had started.
But this time, she drew them out as soon as she noticed Archer's presence, seized by an abject terror that he might know her shame.
She didn't want him to hate her. She knew Senpai must have hated her for her shame. That's why he left her.
"Come on, Archer," she said. "If there are any issues of cleanliness, or laundry, that blame belongs on you."
His expression softened. Maybe now he wouldn't realize how bad she was. She was safe now.
"Anyway," she continued, "I've come to a decision on our strategy in the near term." She brought up her hand in the expression she had seen the strong girl use, with thumb and index fingers at right angles, the index pointing straight up. That is the pose she learned for presenting new information, and she hoped that it got across the attitude she wanted it to. "We're going to confront Caster. I really don't care to see Lancer yet again; we've thrown ourselves at him too many times already. He always gets away. It's not your fault, don't worry; I just don't think he's the sort of foe we can pin down until we learn enough to threaten his Master directly."
"All right, Master," he replied. "I'm glad at least that you've come up with something; it was growing quite depressing for me to watch you, truth be told. You've said a lot but done little, and in my business that's usually a sign of imminent failure."
"Servant, if you think so poorly of me, what does that say about you?"
He chuckled. "Quite right, Master. Okay then, so suppose we go to the temple, and you meet Caster's Master. What is your plan, going in? Are we aggressive? Do we seek to make peace? An alliance, even?"
"Oh, I wouldn't be interested in anything as simple as that," Sakura said. "I have… certain other interests in Caster, and the immense powers he's sure to have."
Archer raised an eyebrow. "Pray, enlighten me?"
Sakura lay back under the covers, though leaving her upper back exposed. She could feel Archer's gaze on it, and that titillated her. "You'll find out, soon enough. But as I hope you know, allies can be fickle, and enemies dangerous. The dead are useless. I prefer a third option." She winked. "Honestly, though, I'm far too exhausted to do anything about it now. Leave me, and we'll go tomorrow."
Archer made to get off the bed, but instead pulled at the sheet. Her breasts, full and soft, almost came into view, but she stopped them.
Somehow, she didn't feel entirely unsafe with him. Even though she resented his freedoms with her, she was glad it was him, and not anyone else.
He would never be Senpai, but he was something new, and in a way, stronger.
"Servant!" she cried as she pulled the sheets back.
"Come now, Master," he drawled. "I have to make sure there's still at least a little life left in you. If not, how else will I stick around? I don't want to be the first Servant in the history of the Holy Grail Wars to disappear because my mana source died of inactivity." He let go of the sheet, which fell on top of Sakura's cleavage. He stood, and leaned forward, so his face was just above hers. "And you know as well as I do: I can get your heart beating fast."
He wasn't wrong; her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. She felt throbbing in her nether-regions as well.
"Just go," she said, her face reddening.
"Your wish is my command, Master," he said, and disappeared into a shower of black and grey sparks.
The next morning, Sakura woke after a – thank the gods – dreamless sleep, dressed, and had her Servant provide her with an overcoat. She made him change into clothing to suit the era in which they lived: grey slacks and a t-shirt, with a denim jacket on top. Together they took a train to the temple, Archer drawing several glances from the female passengers sitting opposite them.
He didn't notice the glances, but Sakura was glad.
She hoped they felt jealous. They looked to be a year older than her.
She could imagine what they were thinking, that she and Archer next to her would be indulged in all the worst sorts of debauchery at night. Him pulling her hair and her screaming, asking him to stop but knowing that there was nothing she would hate more than for him to let go of her. Screaming "No!" when all she felt was "Yes, give yourself to me!"
They must be filled with the image of her licking his unconscious, spent body.
The thought was so amazing. She wished she were sitting in their seats, looking at herself and Archer, since she knew the vividity of her own imagination of herself couldn't possibly match what these girls would be feeling, with all that emotional energy of the envy fuelling the fantasies so that they must be even dirtier than anything Sakura could conjure for herself.
She started to idly try to see one of the other girls in this way, so she could tap into that energy, but it was impossible: the thought of anyone else tasting him was so painful she couldn't do it for more than a few seconds.
She wished she were stronger, mentally.
Archer drew up from his meditative reverie. Sakura didn't know what he was thinking about, but if his dreams were any indication, it couldn't be anything but the thought of the girls across being impaled, burned alive, shot, sliced up. The beautiful scenery outside swallowed in floods and flames.
He doesn't deserve this. He deserves to be happy.
"Sakura," he said quietly.
She kept her gaze focused on the trees out the opposite window. "Yes?"
"Next stop. Don't tell me you lost track of time? Or has your sleepiness even invaded your time out of the house? Will I have a narcoleptic Master on my hands?"
She giggled; she knew the girls couldn't hear what they were saying, but she wanted them to think the words were shared little jokes and endearments. "Don't worry, Archer."
She got herself ready to get off.
Sakura, it's just an enemy Servant. And his Master. Would the weak girl that you are be scared to see them? Yes. But is that who you want to be?
Come on. Put me on your face. Let me be your mask again.
Say it.
Okay?
"Yes, Nee-san," whispered Sakura to her own heart.
Here goes nothing.
