Epilogue Two: Fuyuki Boogaloo
Standing outside the gates of Homurahara Academy, Mordred 'Mo Shishigou' Pendragon crossed her arms as she gazed up at the institution of learning.
She didn't like it.
She didn't like the fact that she had to go to school, but it was either that, or get a job right away, because Kairi kept going on that she was being a bad influence on his daughter. It wasn't her fault that no one was hiring knights nowadays! Other peoples' shit taste was the problem, not her skills.
It was even worse that she couldn't drag those siblings along with her! How the hell had they already graduated high school? They looked super young! All the nerdy one did was click away on his computer, while the cute one was trying to learn!
So deep in her thoughts was she that she didn't notice a student walking up beside her and dropping his hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump away, fists raised. "Ha? The hell d'you want, ya bastard?!"
"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't recognize you and wanted to know if you needed help," the young man replied, putting his hands up. The redhead offered her a weak smile as he continued, "Still, if you're alright, I'll lea—"
Before he could finish, a pair of strident voices called out, "Sherou!" Twin blurs of gold and black smashed into the young man, and they resolved themselves into two young ladies in the Homurahara uniform. Their ringlets were seemingly glowing in the early morning light, and they were certainly a pair of well-developed young women, something that Mordred appreciated even if she was now being totally ignored.
There was a loud scoff and another black haired girl appeared, this one with twintails and slightly less developed compared to the other two. She shook her head as she walked by the scene, declaring loudly, "To think that the Edelfelt heiresses would be so crude as to try and blatantly seduce a man this early in the morning."
"Oh, Miss Tohsaka, I didn't notice you there!" the blonde laughed, lifting her hand up in front of her mouth. "It must be so difficult, being such a gorilla that you see a simple display of friendship as seduction. Then again, you probably would need to physically drag a man off if you ever wanted to get married!"
"Indeed, as my elder sister says, your own ill-nature is not something you should try and thrust upon us," the black-haired twin chimed in, her mouth curled into a cruel smile.
The so-called Tohsaka snarled, "Oh, like you two have any room to talk! What about how you two are dragging Enjou around forcing him to carry things for you!"
Mordred stared at the scene, a sense of familiarity overtaking her as she slowly nodded. This Enjou guy was just like Gareth, gathering up people around him and all of them getting into fights for his attention.
The Saber shook her head.
Hopefully he wouldn't prove to be as fun to hang out with as the puppy had been.
-x-x-x-
Halfway across the world, in an empty office lit by candlelight, Henry Jekyll bent over a table, studying a number of documents intently. That midnight had come and passed did not register to him, so intent on his research was he.
It had been five months since the Great Holy Grail War had come and gone. Five months since Jekyll and Hyde alike were granted a human form once more. Five months since he'd been summoned by a desperate, confused, but ultimately kind magus (and wasn't that an oxymoron).
Five months since his Master, his partner, had vanished into an unspeakable void.
Henry Jekyll did not consider himself a particularly sentimental man. Certainly, the purpose of his original elixir was to free mankind of their darkness, but in truth, that had been more out of self-loathing than out of altruism. And look just how well that had worked out for him...
Jekyll shook his head.
The point was, Henry Jekyll did not find himself becoming attached to people particularly often. The number of genuine bonds he had formed during his life could be counted on his hands with multiple fingers left over.
All the same, here he was. In a research lab, generously provided by the good people of the Clock Tower in exchange for his expertise in alchemic matters…
Jekyll raised his eyes from his papers as he heard the door of his office creak open. His gaze met the icy scowl of a blonde woman. She had an air of disdain and malice around her as she strutted forward, bejeweled cane in hand. Henry's hand dipped into one pocket and closed around a scalpel. It was time for one of those incidents again, wasn't it?
He opened his mouth to speak, to give her the courtesy of backing out, but it was futile. Before a single word could escape his mouth, she tossed her head back and cut him off, looking down her nose as a contemptuous drawl escaped her mouth as she gestured grandly with her cane. "Be grateful, plebeian, for your sorry existence shall finally be given meaning! I, Giselle Basterbine El-Melloi, shall—"
Her speech was cut short with the clang of metal as the Phantom Maiden burst into existence behind her, not giving the woman a chance to scream. Strutting into the room as the iron maiden faded out of sight, Carmilla gently brushed her hair out of her face.
Looking like she had just stepped off the runway, clad in the latest fashions, able to draw any eye she might desire. Still, despite all that, the air of danger she carried with her was lingering like a mist.
A moment of silence passed between the two, and the Assassin spoke, "Berserker, it's been a while since we last met."
The man's fingers loosened around the scalpel, and he leaned back against the wall. "Indeed," he replied, adjusting his tie as he glanced between the other former Servant and her Noble Phantasm. "Third time this month," he muttered, "what are they teaching these magi if not common sense?"
He shook his head tiredly before returning his attention to Carmilla. "It pains me to admit it, but I have hit a wall."
"Would you care to explain?" the former Bathory inquired, considering just how much the Berserker must have cleaned his office, given that she couldn't smell any blood in the room.
Jekyll blinked, then pinched his brow. "Of course, of course. Apologies, it has been a long...well, a long few months, really." He pushed off the wall and began to pace, fingers interlaced behind him. "For the most part, the issue lies with the limitations of Magecraft. Certainly, Magi guard their mysteries like dragons guard their hoards, but…" He gave a mirthless smile. "My particular talents are not of inconsiderable worth." His smile faded. "Especially since the particular branch of Magecraft that I require is considered a dead-end.
"To be sure, spatial manipulation and dimensional folding are both things achievable with Magecraft, but only within the boundaries of the World. What happened that day, what we need, is not something within the grasp of modern Magi."
"Of course, that is something that we cannot forget, but, isn't the Old Man of the Jewels a professor here?" Carmilla asked, crossing her arms as she did so. "I'll be able to keep the cashflow up so long as we need it. Despite our various differences, those two were…" the Assassin trailed off, shaking her head. "Well, we have our reasons for this line of inquiry."
Jekyll nodded. "And therein lies the second issue. Certainly, the Kaleidoscope would be able to aid us, but gaining his attention is a task in and of itself. One cannot simply stride up to one of the only two Sorcerers in the world and ask for an audience, nevermind that he is scarcely present here in the first place. He needs to come to us. Hence," he waved a hand at his studies, "my research. But…"
Jekyll slumped over his desk, pressing his palms into the wood. "I am no Caster, despite my skills with alchemy."
"A conundrum indeed," the vampiress murmured, a single perfectly manicured nail coming up to scratch at her chin. "Perhaps the string of dead students will eventually draw his attention? It seemed to work out well enough for Trent, despite his eccentricities."
Henry Jekyll barked a laugh, then sobered. "Somehow, I doubt it; backstabbing is part and parcel of this blasted institution, doubly so because every last one of them has been a second child or worse." He shook his head sadly. "They are so damnably desperate to prove they're worthy that there's scarcely a week that goes by that one fails to tear another apart for scraps."
"Maybe you should go for a record? See about trying to kill as many in a month, or maybe set up an impossible death course, saying that the winner will get some big prize?" Carmilla suggested, one hand raised up. "Of course, the prize would be more of your attention in class, because all the others would be dead, but they don't know that."
Henry raised his head and sent the Assassin a gimlet stare.
"I'm not wrong," she declared unapologetically.
The Berserker straightened, and let out a sigh. "Leaving aside my moral objections to that idea for the moment...That might attract attention, this is true, but I somehow doubt that even the most grotesque massacre would serve as even the faintest distraction from the man who has been striding between the realms for a thousand years."
"Perhaps we could contact Lion-Go? Have him let loose that ruffian in the halls of the Clock Tower, see if that might get his attention?" Carmilla advised, thinking of their mutual acquaintances. "He's probably tired of her lazing about his home, being a terrible influence on his child."
"Or you could just ask me," came an unfamiliar male voice, causing both incarnated Servants to stiffen.
He was neither exceptionally tall nor exceptionally short; indeed, in stature and frame the man was fairly average. White hair swept back from a wrinkled brow, while an equally white beard framed a weathered yet strong jawline.
The man's vestments were simple, and all the more elegant for it: a black dress shirt trimmed in white with slacks and loafers to match. A jet black mantle tied the ensemble together, with the only spot of color being the golden thread connecting the two sides of the mantle.
All things considered, the aged man could have been someone's grandfather, done up for a meeting of high society, but that comparison only held if one merely looked flesh deep. Leaving aside that he had appeared in the room without any prior indication of his entrance, there was a presence to this man, a depth to him that made a line of ice run up the incarnated Servants' spines. Legends whose names had been made immortal by the Throne they might have been, but the very moment they both laid eyes on the man, they knew he was not to be trifled with.
White-gloved fingers tapped idly on the head of a simple, unadorned wooden cane as Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg gazed at Berserker and Assassin with eyes like rubies. "I remember, once upon a time, those battle royales were all the rage. I must admit, however, that bloodsports have grown extremely tiresome these days."
The Wizard Marshal gave a thin, tired smile, perhaps meant to be reassuring.
It wasn't.
"Let us have a talk, then. About your presence here, about your former Masters'...unusual circumstances, and about that fissure in the worldline that caused Cath Palug to rampage as Beast IV, however briefly."
-x-x-x-
Kairi Shishigou sat in his home, sipping at his coffee, enjoying the quiet life that he had started to live after the end of the Grand Grail War.
His daughter was alive once more, he'd adopted an utter goon, and he knew that most of his charges from the Grail War were safe.
He was not prepared for the other two incarnated Servants and the Old Man of the Jewels to materialize in his living room with no warning whatsoever.
After a moment, he let out a sigh. "I'm really getting too old for this shit."
AN: Stay tuned for this fic's sequel, "It's Always Horny On Main (In Kuoh), being uploaded soon to a fanfic site near you! And by soon, I mean it's being uploaded concurrently with this epilogue.