The smell of tomatoes and onions wafted in the air as Arturia stepped into her brother's apartment. It seems she was a bit early for dinner, but she couldn't help but hurry home after that courageous little stunt she pulled. It was quite embarrassing, really, to have been so bold, but the burning yearn to steal one little peck on the cheek was difficult to ignore. She only hoped she wasn't so red in the face that Kay'd tease her about it. Even now she found it hard to quell the quick beating of her heart. The organ throbbed against her ribcage like a drum, and she knew it wasn't from all the running.

"Hey Arty," he greeted, not even looking up from his soup as he greeted her. She responded as she came up next to him, eager to see what he was making. The fragrant scent of cooked rice was in the air too, she could only guess it was something Asian.

The CPA lawyer added slices of meat to the pot and then a pinch of salt, then covered the soup as he moved to cut the vegetables he had cleaned. There was okra, radish, eggplant, a root vegetable that resembled a sweet potato, and a bowl of something she registered as water spinach.

"It's something Maria taught me. I know I'm butchering the pronunciation but I believe it's "see-knee-gang", or something like that," Kay explained, muttering a quiet bollocks as one of the okras rolled off the cutting board. "It's a bit sour and strange. But trust me, it's good."

Arturia was quiet for a moment, but she reached for the knife, much to Kay's surprise.

"What?" she asked, challenging his gaping expression with a raised eyebrow.

Kay chose his words carefully, but he couldn't resist a teasing smirk. "You were never really good at preparing food."

Arturia scoffed and wrestled the kitchen tool out of his grip. He backed away with his hands in the air, a smart move. To his surprise, the way she gripped the handle was near perfect, and the evenly spaced clacks as the knife hit the board were indicative of similarly sized pieces. When had she learned that?

"A...friend taught me," she explained. She could see her brother shrug and return to an open laptop on the dining table, trusting her to finish. Before long, he was typing away on his computer, fully absorbed in one of his client's accounts. She let herself relax as the nostalgia hit her, remembering the warmth of Shirou's chest on her back as he guided her hands like a true expert would, and the feel of his warm breath on her cheek. A part of her told her that moments just like that would come sooner rather than later, now that they've been reunited.

Neat piles of nearly even vegetables sat in their own section of the cutting board. Arturia admitted to herself that she was a bit proud of her handiwork. Some of the cuts were still clumsy, but she was relieved she learned something from that rather...amorous exchange in the Emiya kitchen. Well, now that she had finished...

"By the way, Arty," Kay said, looking up from his station as she brought him some evening tea. "Could you give this a look and see if it's alright?"

Arturia gave him a curious look as he slid her a legal-sized folder.

DEED OF ABSOLUTE SALE

KNOW ALL MEN BY THESE PRESENTS: This DEED OF ABSOLUTE SALE is made, executed and entered into by: Merritt Wiltemris, of legal age, single, British, and with residence and postal address at 5th Fuyui Building, Mahou no Machi Street, Shinto, Fuyuki City, hereinafter referred to as the SELLER

-AND-

ARIA DRAGON, of legal age, single, and with residence and postal address at 25A Masaki Tower, Mushi Street, Fuyuki City, hereinafter referred to as the BUYER.

WITNESSETH;

WHEREAS, the SELLER is the registered owner of Masaki Tower Penthouse Condominium Unit located at Mushi Street, Fuyuki City and covered by Transfer Certificate of Title No. 09104000 containing a total area of two hundred fifty-four (254) SQUARE METERS, more or less, and more particularly described as follows…

Arturia's eyes traveled down the documents, immediately recognizing her 'name' and hypothesizing this "Merritt" was probably the old wizard. There were several blanks above their names at the end of the document, and Kay's alias, Caleb Ector, was written down as a witness. Attached were several more important files, such as both their birth certificates to serve as IDs, the title for the condominium, and multiple copies of an Acknowledgement for the notary.

However, what was slightly alarming was the seven-figure price tag attached to the exchange. She had just gotten her first salary and used it to pay off Rin for the first mission. There was no way she could possibly scrape up that kind of money overnight.

"Relax," Kay said, smiling at his little sister. "This is mostly a formality. The wizard did say he was giving it to you, more or less. I'm only processing this for RTK's books. Even if it's under his name, it was always technically company property," he explained, standing up from his chair to look at the documents over her shoulder.

He pointed at her biodata. "I meant this. Do these seem right to you? Born in the UK, April 16, 1993. What does that make you, twenty-two? Bollocks, I'm a full ten years older than you according to this," he rambled, a contemplative finger tapping his chin.

Arturia reviewed the document again, it seemed by some stroke of luck she, Shirou and Rin had gotten it right the first time, not that these documents did anything more than secure their place in society. It did, however, dampen her spirits to know that she was soon to move out of Kay's condo when all this time she'd been enjoying his company.

The persistent beeping of a kitchen timer prompted the siblings to look up from their work. Kay ruffled her hair as he moved to the kitchen, laughing as she shrugged him off. He emptied nearly all the vegetables into the stew and covered the pot again, promising only a few more minutes left. He then picked dishes off of the rack by the sink and set the table, knowing with the way his sister was beginning to get a little antsy that she was excited to eat.

It was so...normal.

This was everything Kay wished for all those years ago, as he sat across Arturia on the Round Table, watching her once expressive eyes lose color with every day spent in her court.

He found a sad smile creeping its way up his face as Arturia turned off the stove and brought the pot to the modest dining area. The residual steam wafting into her face made the young woman salivate. She always had a crazy appetite, no matter the time of day.

His sister's eyes seemed to sparkle as he lifted the pot's lid, the fragrant smell of tamarind filling the room. She served him first, which was something of a remnant from when they were little. He was the older brother after all. Arty commented on how it was a little bit odd to eat soup with rice, but upon trying it, she looked like she had just been handed the answer to the life equation.

Kay laughed. Really laughed. The kind of laugh one would have when one was completely carefree, if every worry in the world just suddenly ceased to exist. The expression on her face was priceless. He'd remember it in the years to come. Ah yes, they had years to come. What a strange, but beautiful thought.

The knight looked to the head of the table in silence as his sister dug in, singing Kay praises for the delicious meal. He imagined the proud face of the one man he longed to be in the company of once again, and how he'd smile with tears in his wise, old, eyes.

We're home now, Dad.

Arturia: We had some weird sour soup for dinner tonight.

Arturia: It was an absolute delight. I hope you've been eating well.

Me: Yeah? Sounds interesting. I'd like to try it sometime. :)

Arturia: Come over for dinner this Thursday then.

Arturia: How's Merlin been treating you?

Me: He can be quite enthusiastic at times.

Me: I'll be there?

Arturia: Ha! That's the understatement of the century!

Diarmuid: Worry not, he's been treating me fine

Diarmuid deleted the sad little I miss he had started to write in favor of another invitation to spar. He fed himself a spoon of what was supposed to be a curry into his mouth with his free hand and pressed send. It felt like ages since the last time he'd sparred with Arturia, and oh how he missed those two weeks at the Emiya's.

Of course, it wasn't really just the spars that he missed. In truth, he knew he loved her company. The wind was cooler, the sun brighter, the world was alive with color. They had yet to have a match at the beach, but he figured it would be nice. They could pass by Ahnenerbe for refreshments and snacks.

He felt his heart skip a beat as he read her reply. Tomorrow. He knew she meant dawn, as it was the regular for them. Oh well, they could get breakfast at Ahnenerbe afterward then. Cú would be ecstatic and so would the manager. He smiled, he couldn't help himself. The fluttering butterflies in his stomach were too much-

CRASH!

The knight was on his feet immediately, spears in hand. Trained eyes swept his room, but found no sign of trespassers, nor any foreign presence. His eyes landed on the overturned bowl of curry he had been helping himself to and sighed. It seemed an awful waste...but then again it wasn't all that good. He must've screwed up the recipe somehow. Was it the ginger?

Diarmuid put his weapons away and let his armor dissipate as he investigated the hall. One of the doors was ajar, light spilling out into the corridor. He was about to go back inside when he heard a soft groan. Fearing someone had injured himself, he cautiously came upon the open doorway.

Inside was a quaint apartment styled in a cozy western fashion. Most of the furniture looked lived in, as if the owners had been using them for a long time. The edges of the wooden tables were scuffed, products of hurt shins and injured knees, he could only guess. A muttered curse from the corner of the room caught Diarmuid's attention.

It was a man. Old, he looked like he'd lived a century. He was standing over a toppled bookcase, leaning on a cane that reached up to his waist. Thankfully, he seemed unharmed. Diarmuid rapped his knuckles against the wooden door frame.

"Excuse me?"

The man looked up, just a little bit embarrassed. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, young man, but would you lend me a hand?"

He smiled and made his way inside.

Diarmuid learned the man's name was Glen. Glen Mackenzie. He was trying to push the bookcase a little further to the right when one of it's legs gave out and the whole thing came crashing down. The old man hadn't meant to leave the door open, but it was a stroke of luck that it alerted Diarmuid and brought him to the apartment.

It took a little sweeping to get rid of a few shards of glass and a few minutes of thank you's and you're welcome's, but Diarmuid eventually put the last book on a stack and neatly tucked it away into the corner. They couldn't save the bookcase, it was no longer structurally sound, so the knight went ahead and brought it outside to dispose of it.

"Why don't you join me for dinner, mister…?"

"Diarmuid," he answered instinctively, before realizing his mistake. Oh, well. It was far too late to say he was 'Drake' now, wasn't it?

"Irish? Huh, I wouldn't have guessed. Good to meet you, mate. Hope you don't mind a nice Aussie steak."

Glen made it difficult to refuse, especially when he heard Diarmuid's stomach rumble. The few bites of the curry abomination he had left him wanting more. The minute the knight sank his teeth into the meat, however, he was incredibly grateful he had relented. It was absolutely heaven-sent, tender in all the right places. This might have been the best slab of meat he'd ever had. Paired with the mashed potatoes Glen brought out, it was beyond delectable.

Glen seemed to be pleased at his reaction, and quickly began getting to know his new neighbor.

"Why were you trying to move something so heavy by yourself?" Diarmuid asked, when he was finished washing the dishes. He insisted, saying Glen had to rest after all the pushing he'd been doing.

"I needed to move it to get the piano out," the man explained, directing Diarmuid's attention to the dusty instrument in the corner.

Diarmuid ran his hands over the old piano. It was the first time he'd ever seen such a thing, an instrument about as high as his sternum. It was maple wood, he believed. It must have shone brightly once from the polish, he thought, as he swept away some dust bunnies. He lifted what looked like a lid, revealing eighty-eight keys in black and white, the width of each around the same as his long fingers.

"You're selling it?" Diarmuid asked, seeing the little post-it on the top with a price.

Glen nodded. "My wife, Martha...she used to play such wonderful songs. Some were even tunes she just made up," he said, a low chuckle leaving his lips as the sentence came to a close.

"Oh, I must apologize-"

"Oh, none of that lad! It's been ten years now. She died a happy, fulfilled woman. I'm sure she'd be glad to see this baby see the light, appreciated by a different owner. I never learned how to play, see?" Glen stated, pressing down a few keys to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star".

"No one's played it for a while." Even though the old man was smiling, he looked quite...sad. When he looked in his eyes it seemed he was lost in his memories. He must have really loved his wife. The deep laugh lines and crinkles in the man's eyes were indicative a long life of happiness.

"Still, to sell this? It seems an awful waste," Diarmuid commented, marveling at the still crisp sounds of the playful tune Glen had played. He couldn't believe how much humanity had changed to bring something such as this into the world. In his time, it was mostly just one's voice that carried song.

"My grandson still supports me, the kind boy. But he has his own family now. I think this might lighten the load," Glen said, pointing to one picture frame with him, Martha, a tall, familiar-looking white man with hair that reached his waist, a lovely Japanese woman in a striped shirt with brown eyes, and a child who had the mother's features, but his father's dark, straight locks.

Diarmuid couldn't help but crack a smile. Although the young father looked so serious, the pink in his cheeks and his hand on the little boy's head told him the man was happy. So were Glen and Martha, both wearing the widest smiles he'd ever seen.

"Tell you what," Diarmuid started, the decision coming to him almost immediately. "I'll take it off your hands."

Glen's eyes widened until they were dinner plates, and he quickly tried to formulate a refusal. "Young man, you've already done this much for me, I couldn't ask-"

"It's no bother. I'd love to have it," Diarmuid said. There was still a lot of space in the apartment. If he dusted and polished it, the piano would definitely complement the furniture that came with the flat.

"Do you even know how to play?" Glen asked, still trying to dissuade the Irishman.

"I don-" Diarmuid suddenly stopped, shook his head as some previously non-existent puzzle pieces clicked into place. "I...do."

As if his muscles were moving on his own, he put his right pinky over the E key and played the first nine notes of a song he hadn't even heard till he'd played it.

"Für Elise," Glen said, eyes sparkling in recognition.

Diarmuid knew Glen was right, even the song was one he didn't know. So this is what Kay meant by talents, back when the Round Table Knight had driven him home for the first time. Still, it was pretty shocking to discover he could play an instrument that hadn't even existed during his time, let alone be gifted with the talent for it. The Grail was a strange thing.

Sheepishly, the ninety-two year old geezer said, "Well, I suppose if you really want it."

"I do," Diarmuid stated. Part of him wanted to go ahead and text Merlin that he'd found a new hobby, but the guy was a clairvoyant, he probably knew already.

"Then let me at least throw this in as a bonus," Glen said, using his cane to drag out a box from under the piano stool. It was filled to the brim with pages upon pages of sheet music, all in various stages of use. Some were new, most of them from a composer named Yiruma, others yellowed and cracking at the edges.

Though the guy was old, the stern look in his face dared Diarmuid to refuse. What a feisty man. The smile that split Diarmuid's face was one of pure joy. He shook Glen's outstretched hand.

"Deal."

Medea rolled over in their bed, a small, soft sigh escaping her lips as she took in her precious Master's sleeping face. Nearly all the time, Soichirou had the expressive qualities of a brick wall, but during the night, when they were both tucked under the covers, she would see his stiff countenance relax. The deep creases in his eyebrows would loosen, the permanent thin line that was his mouth would turn into a pale, kissable pair.

It warmed her heart to know, that she was the only person alive who had ever seen him like this, vulnerable and trusting. Caster leaned to place a lasting kiss on his forehead, and then on his cheek. Though she tried to be gentle, she felt the man stir. Apologies were already on the tip of her tongue, but she was silent as he gave her a kiss of his own, pressing his chapped lips against her soft ones.

He looped an arm around her back and pulled her closer till he could rest his chin on the top of her head. She blushed as all maidens do, burying her head into his toned chest as she felt him sigh contentedly. It was mere moments before his breathing once again evened out, as if all he needed for a restful sleep was to breathe in her scent.

Caster smiled to herself, the giddiness of the day still keeping her up. She knew Soichirou wasn't ever one for romance. He was a man of logic, efficiency, those who didn't know any better might have even called him a machine. And though there was truth to that, there was so much more about this man that was often overlooked. Like his past, his kindness.

Caster touched her forehead to his chest, sharing in his warmth. It seemed despite what he said at dinner, he was indeed quite tired. He'd dealt with an extra class that day, after all. Yet, after all that, Soichirou still found the time and energy to take her to the old temple courtyard. He'd brought them dinner and candlelight, neatly put together in a picnic basket.

The place had been lit up with hundreds of paper lanterns, all in different shapes and sizes. In the center of it all, a large mat with pillows, perfect for stargazing. The night was quiet, save for the voices of the night creatures and the singing of the wind. By some miracle, even the noises from the city could not disturb the peace.

They had talked, leaned on each other as they looked at the sky. Conversations about wishes, how they met, what would become of their future came up one after the other, hushed secrets that would only ever be spoken between them.

She said it first, the three words spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them. At first, it was silence, and she began to feel her heart fall. But when he shifted and pulled a tiny velvet box out of his pocket, the tears that spilled from her eyes were those of joy.

He apologized for taking so long. It had taken nearly the whole month to sort his bank accounts since he was no longer MIA. She shook her head as she clasped her hands to her mouth, telling him she didn't wait long.

The jewel itself was tiny, a small diamond embedded within a gold ring. It was smaller than the ones she had once been gifted, smaller than what her would-be suitors would have given to win her favor if she'd stayed in Colchis, but to Caster, it was everything. No one could have possibly handed her something of more value.

She kissed him before he could even slip the ring on her finger, their first kiss as each other's fiancé. When she looked him in the eyes, she swore she could see forever, and family, and love. She saw love, and nothing else in the world mattered.

Caster shed a lone, happy tear as she looped her hand around her lover, her fiancé, and at last fell asleep knowing she had finally found her home.