Chapter One: The Love Letter
White snow fell from the heavens and covered the trees and pathway through the forest. The dirt pathway was surrounded by trees on both sides, separating the two forests that intertwined with each other.
Up in the sky above the trees, two birds flew parallel with each other. Following behind the birds that were grouped with other birds. One of the groups was a large one, with dozens of birds following the leader, while the other only had one bird following them.
Separating the birds was a small border on the ground, a difference in color. Where the larger group was, the snow was light gray. On the small group's side, the snow was pure white. The top off the trees between the two groups could be seen with slightly different patterns.
The bird who led its single friend, the one on the right side, turned its head to the side to look at the bird who led the larger group, who was on the left. It opened its beak and asked them, "Hey, Crow, your side looks beautiful and luscious compared to mine," it said, "The light-grey doesn't hurt my eyes, and you can see the beautiful colors of red, yellow, and orange inside the trees. Unlike my side, it's only blinding white and no color."
The crow turned its head towards the bird that spoke. "Oh dear Raven, your eyes are so innocent," it replied with a sorrowful tone, "Look closely at the snow, for it isn't cold. It is hot and it burns. It suffocated the animals that live here. It is ash. It does not provide life, but takes. The color you see in the forest is nothing but blood and flames. It seeps through my forest like a virus spreading through its host. It may be beautiful, but it is not lovely. Once the ashes disappear and reveal the land, all you will see is death and isolation. Now look at your forest, dear Raven. It is white and pure, with no color in sight to stain it. The white snow is snow and it is rich in life. Animals run through nature's cold blankets and thrive. It is a hopeful place, unlike mine, once the snow disappears what will be revealed is life, an oasis. Streams of life-giving water will travel through your lands, and new animals will prosper."
The Raven looked back at its forest, then back at the crow's forest. "But Crow, my forest is too stuffy, too crowded. So many animals roam my land. It's never quiet and I never get enough rest. They always come to me to ask for help and ask questions. Unlike my land, yours is quiet and peaceful, it's just you and your friends. You don't have to listen to the animal's ramblings, you don't have to answer their questions, you don't have to over work yourself. I want to be in your land!"
The Crow shook its head disappointingly at the Raven. "Oh dear Raven, how wrong you are. You may be right about it being quiet, about the land not being over crowded, about me being with only my friends, but I tell you this Raven, it is not peaceful. The animals have disappeared because they are dead. Their playful shouts no longer fill the land, but silence makes it a void. It is lonely, it is quiet, it is… silent. Oh Raven, you don't know how much I miss to talk to those animals again, how much I miss to be asked those silly questions, how much I miss being bothered by the crowds. Dear Raven, I tell you this: enjoy the sound of the hundreds of animals who love you, enjoy the bothersome questions of your peers, enjoy the company you have now, for you will regret not savoring it once they disappear."
The Raven looked at the Crow's friends. Dozens upon dozens of friends. It was an envious amount. They followed the Crow in a straight line, not breaking sight of the leader. Whatever the Crow did, they followed. Whatever the Crow told them to do, they did so. Then the Raven looked back at their friends. Only one followed them, a single friend. The Raven's friend followed them, but not in a straight line. It flew all around, in circles, in loops, in zigzags. It flew all around with the freedom to do so.
Then the Raven looked back at the Crow and said, "Hey Crow, how do you have so many friends? You're so lucky. They follow you loyally, they do everything you tell them to do. They're silent and always listen to what you have to say. Unlike my friend, they follow me, but don't always do what I say. They're loud and annoying and don't fly in a straight line. I want to have as many friends as you, I want to know how to make more friends like you."
The Crow flew lower to the trees and landed on one of the branches on its side. The other crows did the same and landed on the branches behind it. The Raven landed on one of the branches on its side. Its friend landed right beside it.
The flock of Crows started to smoke from their feet. The leader Crow ignored the heat and looked at the Raven. "Oh dear Raven, open your eyes, and you'll see. They are not my friends, but my followers. You don't have a follower, but a friend. Dear Raven, they follow me not because they're my friends, but because they fear me. Your friend follows you because they love you."
Behind the Raven, his followers one by one slowly burnt up into ashes. They cried as they quickly poofed into dust.
The Crow ignored their cries and kept staring at the Raven, smoke rising from their feet. "Oh dear Raven. You don't know what pain I have been through. You are young and naive. I am old and wise."
The Raven didn't burn up when it landed on its branch as well as their friend. They sat there, comfortable in their land. "Hey Crow, why do they love me but fear you?"
"Because, dear Raven, you tell lovely tales and cables and fiction, while I tell deceitful lies and curses," the Crow answered. All of its followers were turned into ashes, and they were the last one standing. Smoke rose through their feet and feathers and spread throughout their body. "Oh dear Raven, I am old and my time has come. You are young and still have time. Oh how I wish I was as young as you, for there are things I still want to do. I want to save my forest from burning. I want to save the animals that are still alive in the flames."
The Raven tilted its head to the side and ruffled its cold wet feathers. "Hey Crow," it said. "Let me save your forest and the animals and the trees and the plants. I'll save them and let them in my home where they can thrive."
"Oh dear Raven, will you take this burden from me and lift it on your own shoulders?" the Crow asked.
"I will Crow, I will take your burden," the Raven replied.
"Then, dear Raven, I pass the baton to you. Take my burden of saving my forest. My home's fate is yours to decide." The Crow's feathers turned to ash and the flames of death enveloped the poor bird. "Thank you dear Raven," its voice echoed all around. "I am in your debt…"
"God damnit Philip wake up!" A large foot kicked Philip in his side, jolting him awake.
Philip's eyes opened from the pain and his arms waved all around. He was laying on an old brown couch in his blue and white striped pajamas, the light streaming into his eyes from the windows to his right. "Gah!" He rolled off of the couch and fell on the wooden floor, groaning and holding his left side. "Owww… why would you do that Emiya?!" he complained and looked up at the man who kicked him.
Standing above him was his Servant, Emiya, a Heroic Spirit and a Guardian. He's been acting as Philip's guardian for five years now by providing for him and doing things any parent would do for their child. But now Philip has grown up, and he's become a bit of a brat.
Emiya stared down at Philip menacingly with his pink apron covering his house clothes, which consisted of a nice and tidy black pants and black buttoned top. His slicked back hair moved side to side as he shook his head at Philip with disappointment.
"Do you know what time it is Philip?" he asked with an angered look. He shifted his stance and folded his arms.
Philip sat up straight and crossed his legs while rubbing the back of his head. "Uhhh…" He looked over at the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room. Its bronze pendulum swung back and forth, going tick-tock. The small hand pointed at the Roman numeral that stood for eight and the longer hand pointed midway between twelve and three. "OH—"
"Yeah, exactly," Emiya interrupted his screech. He gave a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger. "You're going to be late for school, so get dressed, clean up, and eat quickly," he ordered.
"Yeah, I'm going!" Philip grabbed onto the couch and pushed himself up. He sluggishly ran to his room and barged inside.
Their home was a small house on top of a hill in the forest by a nearby school. It was surrounded by trees and life to give them privacy, and it wasn't a long walk to get to school. It's a humble living, with only two bedrooms, the two of them being right next to each other but separated by a wall, one single restroom that was to the left of Philip's room, and everything else was in the middle of the house; the kitchen, the living room, and the dining room, but where Philip and Emiya trained was outside. Even if it rained, they would still practice their skills in both sword fighting and Magecraft.
Their home was furnished with simple furniture. The middle of the house was "split" into a few areas. In the "top half", there was the kitchen which consisted of the sink, dishwasher, stove, oven, microwave, cabinets, and other necessities for a kitchen.
Right below the kitchen, divided by a small wall that covered the sink's wires, was the dining room. A simple circular wooden table and three chairs on top of a white rug was all it was; the extra chair was just in case there was a guest, like a friend of Philip's or a coworker of Emiya's.
The living room was to the left of the dining room. A long couch bent to the shape of an "L" was facing the corner. It was a large couch, but not because they would bring guests over, but because Philip liked to lounge on the couch and stretch his body all over it to get comfortable, though Emiya would scold him for doing so, saying that it would ruin the couch and that it was bad mannerism.
As Philip stumbled around his room, searching for clothes to wear, he turned on the light and looked around.
His room was clean and orderly. His bed was still gone (he spilt coffee on it and got Emiya mad, which was why he had to sleep on the couch), but other than that, it was still clean. On both sides where the beds should've been, two white drawers flanked the topside of it, the drawer on the right holding a lamp and alarm clock while on the left, there was a small plate of wrapped candy. To the left of the bedroom was Philip's closet, its white slit doors shut.
Philip slid open the doors and peered inside. Before he could react, a mountain of clothes fell on top of him. "Oh god!" he shrieked just as he was buried alive.
The room was silent for a moment until Philip shoved the clothes away from his face and sat up. His black hair became even messier than before, with strands covering his eyes and parts of it sticking up in the air like loose feathers on a bird.
Philip stood up and stared at the mess below him, unsure of what to do. "Eh, I'll clean it later," he said as he grabbed some crumpled clothes.
"Philip! Hurry up!" Emiya called as he set the plates onto the dining table; a simple breakfast of eggs and toast.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Philip yelled from his room as he ran out, struggling to put on his pink t-shirt and pull up his cargo pants at the same time.
"Once you're done eating, clean yourself up and comb your hair. Don't be late for class!" Emiya pulled out the chair and sat in it. "I don't want to receive a gmail about how you were late to school." He frowned at Philip and sighed. "I know that your plans for the future of becoming a hero are important to you, but think about now, your education."
Philip slipped on his t-shirt and stopped by the table. "Emiya, I want to help people too." He reached out to grab his plate.
"If you want to help people, help yourself first." He leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Just eat your breakfast and clean up."
Philip scoffed at Emiya and took his plate. "I just want to be like you," he muttered as he walked to the bathroom.
Emiya stayed silent until he heard the door shut. He glanced over to where the restroom was. "I don't want you to be like me. I want you to be better."
Philip shoved the toast and eggs into his mouth as he cleaned his hair and washed his face. After he swallowed his breakfast whole, he brushed his teeth quickly and ran out of the bathroom.
"Thank you Emiya for breakfast, I'm going to head out now," Philip said as he placed the plate in the sink. "See you later." He grabbed his backpack and ran to the door.
"Philip!" Emiya called just as Philip was about to leave.
"Yeah?"
"I'll be at work today, so there'll be food in the fridge."
"Alright. See you in the morning Emiya." Philip opened the door and ran down the dirt pathway.
"Be safe!"
The school wasn't so far from their house, just a small walk on the dirt pathway that led to the road. It only took five minutes to walk there, enough time for Philip to think.
Ever since the Grail War ended, him and Emiya had to fend for themselves. A ten year old couldn't do anything by themself, so Emiya had to get all of the jobs and work everyday just so that they could find a place to live. The cheapest home was on a hill by a school.
It was isolated and broken down. It could've been older than the school nearby. The home was dirty and smelly, all of the wood was breaking down or rotting, and plants enveloped the poor building.
Emiya shook his head and looked down at Philip who was beside him. Back then, Philip was only ten and it had only been a few months after the war. "Master, you don't mind sitting on the grass for a bit, do you?" he asked Philip.
Philip shook his head and clung closer to Emiya's legs. "I want to be with you…" he muttered shyly.
Emiya smiled softly and patted his head. "That's fine Master. You can help me fix this house."
After several days of working non stop, Emiya fixed the house that became their new home. They've been living in the home ever since. While Emiya found a job at a nearby restaurant, Philip went to school. It was challenging at first to convince the teachers that Emiya was his guardian, but after a bit of arguing, he got in.
Whatever Emiya did, Philip tried to do. Whenever Emiya cooked something, Philip wanted to help. When Emiya showed off his Projection Magecraft, Philip also wanted to learn and show off too. He copied everything Emiya did, but pushed it too far one day. He wanted to be a hero too, just like Emiya. That desire was what started to split their relationship slowly.
It started when Philip was thirteen. It was almost as natural of a reaction as puberty. When Philip and Emiya were lounging on their couch, the statement that Emiya didn't want to hear, but expected it, came.
"Hey Emiya, I want to be a hero too," Philip said, his eyes glued to the television.
"Hmm? Why is that?" Emiy asked, not really paying attention to the question.
"I want to save people too, like a superhero! You know, save lives, defeat the bad guys, stuff like that," Philip answered.
The truth that Philip realised later on was that Emiya treated his answer as a flimsy dream from a child. He didn't take it seriously.
"Philip." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as he thought of what to say. "Being a hero isn't just about saving people. Sometimes… it's much harder."
"So? I'll still do it even if it was hard."
Emiya looked over at Philip and shook his head. "Philip, no. You don't want to be a hero—"
"I do! I want to be a hero and save people! Weren't you a hero too Emiya?" Philip yelled while pointing at him.
Emiya turned off the television and stood up. "Philip… go to your room," he ordered with a severe tone.
After that small conversation, Philip and Emiya slowly grew apart. Emiya no longer trained him in anything and didn't allow him to use magic or fight. He made him focus mainly on his education so that he could have a normal life.
So of course, Philip disobeyed.
Every night when Emiya went to work, Philip would sneak to their little dojo and practice his Magecraft in secret. It was a struggle at first; summoning a blade perfectly with its durability and sharpness was a challenge, but it was doable. At first, all he could do was summon small ghost-like frames of Emiya's blades, but it slowly gained form and mass, and soon enough, it became a fully replicated copy.
Even if it rained or the ground was muddy, Philip would still practice, whether light or dark, he would still push on. He sat in his active warrior position while taking a deep breath in. His arms glowed white as his Magic Circuits activated. "Trace… on," he chanted.
White lightning shot out of his palms as a white ball of energy formed. His face contorted from pain as mana was drained from him. He never actually received a Magic Crest from Emiya since he was a Servant, so using Magecraft like this drained him a lot faster than a regular Mage.
The glowing ball of mana changed shape from a smooth orb into the silhouette of a singular blade. It wasn't a sword, but more of a large dagger, curved slightly at the back. On top of the handle of the blade was a yin and yang kind of symbol. Philip didn't really understand its meaning, but he just thought it was cool.
The light disappeared and the white blade was fully formed in his right hand. His arm shook from the stress of keeping it together. "Deep breaths, Philip," he told himself.
Fighting while concentrating on keeping the blade intact was another problem. It was like rotating your arms one way while moving your hands the opposite. If he lost his concentration on either one of those, he would lose balance and the blade would fall apart.
He slowly stood up and looked at the dagger. Even then, it was still beautiful to him, reflecting the moonlight above them. An octagonal design soaked in the color of blood imbued the edged blade. A dejected aura was cast from the weapon which disoriented Philip. Why did this dagger radiate such sorrow? He couldn't wrap his head around why he felt so much conviction emitting from it's edges. It served no purpose other than to take life away.
Philip raised his head and looked at the misty figure in front of him. Its image was vague and see-through. It stared blankly at Philip with its white eyes, its facial expression dead. The ghost resembled that of a tall man, but no actual shape or features could be determined aside from that. The faint color of blood red could be seen on the ghost's shoulders as some kind of cloth. It also draped down from its waist to its ankles.
For a while now, Philip had been stalked by this ghost every time he went to practice on his own. Whenever he needed a sparring partner to fight with, this ghost would appear before him. His first meeting with the ghost freaked him out at first, but after some time, he became used to its company, and even considered it as a friend. He felt like it supported him, his dream, and what he was doing to achieve it, even though it never spoke a single word.
Philip nodded at the ghost and got into a fighting stance. The ghost stood there with a sword made of mist in his hand. "Are you ready buddy?" he asked the ghost while flipping the blade in his hand.
The ghost took a step forward, lowering its upper torso, in some form of a bow. A powerful surge of Mana filled it, and with a single powerful kick to the dirt, it flew right at Philip with its blade overhead, aiming straight for Philip's Skull.
Philip quickly took a deep breath and turned his body to the side as fast as he could, nearly pulling a muscle in his leg. He winced and lost his footing for a moment, but still held his ground.
The ghost's blade sliced through the air where Philip once stood. If he stood there for a second longer, he would've lost. The ghost turned its head to the side to look at him with its foggy eyes, then extended its leg quickly into an energetic kick, blasting a powerful gust of air all around, shaking even the tops of the trees.
Philip bent his back away from the kick just as it reached his chest, a similar movement that Emiya taught him. While bending his body, he kicked his legs against the ground and flipped his entire body back up. A swift and agile dodge, yet draining at the same time.
After flipping away from the kick, Philip adjusted his grip on the blade and thrusted it towards the ghost horizontally.
Almost as if from instinct, the ghost raised its knee and slammed the flat of the blade with its elbow, locking the dagger between its limbs, and with an assertive chop to the neck, the ghost forced Philip to release his grip on the blade and fall on the floor.
As Philip fell face first onto the ground, the sudden pain on his forehead and neck made him lose concentration, allowing his dagger to disappear. He groaned quietly and stood back up while rubbing the back of his neck. He could tell that the ghost didn't use all of its strength in its attack. It had an unfair advantage of hiding its strength.
"Trace on." Another surge of energy flowed through Philip's arms and exited his left palm this time. The orb of energy took shape into the same dagger, except it's colors were reversed. Instead of a white blade, it was black. The same depressing aura still radiated from the blade. Even though Philip was right handed, fighting with a sword in his left hand wasn't that challenging. "Come on, I still got a bit left to give," Philip taunted the ghost.
Not knowing what kind of blade the ghost equipped was another disadvantage Philip had to deal with. Since he couldn't determine its length, width, nor type, it was just like fighting with a blind fold over his eyes. The ghost knew of this advantage very well, and it wasn't going to throw that away.
Unlike before, Philip made the first move. He charged at the ghost, his legs moving quickly and his body moving closer to the ground; another strategy that Emiya taught him. Lowering his height and width, he would be a tougher target to hit. Once he got close enough, he slammed his right foot into the dirt, digging it in place, then with his left foot, he swung it around in an arc. His foot hooked onto the ghost's arm, which was somehow physical, and he pulled himself up above the ghost, his left blade raised over his head.
Philip's blade came crashing down towards the ghost, but only to slice through empty air as the ghost moved to the side. Determined to get at least one hit on his opponent, he quickly dragged his blade through the air and swung diagonally towards the ghost's chest.
Again, his blade didn't find its mark. His target was agile and cautious. Though it was a ghost, its soul and instincts were very much alive. As Philip's blade sliced through the air, the ghost moved back gracefully and without fault. Even though Philip examined his target cautiously and thoroughly, searching for every opening that was there, he couldn't find any. Every time he thought he saw one, it was just an illusion that set him back another step.
"Get back over here!" Philip yelled in frustration as he swung his blade once more in another arc. The ghost blocked it lightly with its own blade and pushed Philip away with its shoulder. Falling backwards, Philip caught himself with the heel of his foot and swung his blade at the ghost once more.
The ghost raised its blade and parried his attack. The two blades scraped against each other; the sickening sound of two metals clashing against each other ranged throughout the forest. Philip pressed against the ghost's blade with most of his strength, and unlike him, the ghost didn't seem to use much force to hold him back.
Philip shifted his feet into another position and shoved his toes into the dirt. His blades cracked and chipped away the more strength he used. The blade was giving out, but if he could just get one hit in, even with just a stub, he would be satisfied. So he pressed harder.
And just as the ghost was slightly pushed back and disgruntled, Philip's blade exploded from shattering, forcing him down on the ground, his body thrown across the floor and his head slammed against his desk as he woke up from his daydream.
The students around him shuttered from the sudden slam of his forehead against the desk and stared at him.
Philip raised his head slowly, his ears red. "Sorry," he muttered.
His teacher glared at him from the corners of her eyes and looked away while continuing to write on the board.
"Hey, hey, Philip," someone whispered behind him while tapping his back.
"Hm?" Philip turned around to look at his close friend, Maxwell.
Maxwell knew Philip ever since he's entered the school and has been his friend ever since. They've been together through thick and thin, though there wasn't really anything to go through. They just liked being together. Maxwell was the loner who didn't have that many friends because people thought he was weird, and Philip was the popular one who wanted genuinely good friends.
Maxwell was a comedic kind of guy, had a great ongoing personality, and was quite weird, well, compared to other students, he was. It was probably because he's a transfer student from America. When he first joined the school, all of the students were expecting someone blonde and tall and have light skin, but instead they got a light brown hair, dark skinned kid who was the average height.
His humor was strange to the students and the way he talked wasn't the usual. He didn't care if he got something wrong, because that moment would barely last for a moment. Philip took a liking to him because he was unique and truthful, though he did admit that he was a little weird.
Maxwell smirked at him while continuously poking his shoulder. "What were you dreaming about? You looked so stupid when you woke up." Like Philip, he went against the dress codes and wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans, a dark yellow, dark green, and brown patterned jacket wrapped around his waist. The other students wore their usual school uniforms of light brown. Their sleeves were long since it was late August.
Philip groaned and laid his forehead on his arms. "I don't want to talk about it," he replied as he tried to go back to sleep.
"Oh?" Maxwell's lips curved into a large grin as he leaned in close to Philip's ear. "Was it a wet dream?" he whispered.
Philip jolted back up. "What? No! Of course not!" he shouted out loud.
The teacher hushed and scowled at him before returning to writing on the chalkboard.
Philip sighed and leaned back in his chair to get closer to Maxwell. "It wasn't a wet dream," he whispered. "It was more of a fever dream to be honest. Kind of weird."
"Oh really? What did you dream about?" Maxwell asked as he twirled a pencil between his fingers.
The bell rang, interrupting what Philip was about to say. The students quietly placed their stuff into their bags and left the classroom chatting. The teacher sighed and sat back down on her seat.
"Let's talk about it at lunch," Philip said as he stood up.
Philip and Maxwell walked down the hallway with their backpacks swung over their shoulder and their other hand in their pocket. They walked in unison, not a single step out of beat. "What are you getting today Philip," Maxwell asked him as they turned right.
"Hmmm, maybe beef today, who knows," Philip answered. "What about you?"
"I was thinking about fish, y'know, but the thing is…" He dug into his pocket and took out an envelope. He waved it in front of Philip's face, showing off the red heart sealing it. A huge smile stretched across Maxwell's face.
Philip paused in his tracks from shock. "No way," Philip muttered as a smile also inched across his face. "No freaking way."
"What are you so surprised about?" Maxwell asked as he placed his free hand on his hip and smirked. "Don't you get thousands of lovey-dovey letters in your locker all the time?"
"Yeah, but this is you! No girl has ever talked to you, heck, even shown affection to you!" Philip looked at the letter once more and back at Maxwell. "You sure it's not a fake or it's not someone else's?"
"Pfft, why would it be?" He showed him the back of the envelope, exposing the writing hidden from him. To my dear beloved Maxwell, is what was written on the letter. "Dude, it even smells like perfume!"
Philip's face suddenly became serious and he grabbed Maxwell's shoulder while staring him dead in the eye. "What if it's a guy," he muttered.
Maxwell thought for a moment and his eyes glinted with an evil sparkle. "What if it's a trap? I'm down for that."
"How lonely can you be to swing that way?"
Maxwell grabbed his shoulder in return with dead eyes. "Too lonely," he replied. They stood there in awkward silence until another student gave them a strange look before walking away.
Philip cleared his throat and retracted his arm. "Well anyways, let's just hope it's real and from a girl. Know anybody who might be interested in you?"
"Hmmm." Maxwell took his arm off of Philip and placed it on his chin. "I don't know… but there's this one chick who keeps staring at me—"
"That's a start—"
"With a murderous glare—"
"That's… not a start. Who else can you think of?"
Maxwell shrugged and slipped the letter back into his pocket. "I don't know. I don't pay attention to anyone except for Valence."
"You're still hooked on Valence?" Philip shook his head in disappointment. "Dude move on man, she's already got a man."
"But I wanted to be her man!" Maxwell complained and pouted. He glanced at Philip and immediately lost it. His face cracked up in a laugh and he laid his arm on Philip's shoulder. "Whatever. Someone's got a crush on me now! Screw Valence, I got my own girl!"
"Well good luck on that. Have you even read the letter yet?"
"Nope! Wanna read it together?"
"Heck yeah dude. Let's get our lunch quickly."
Philip and Maxwell made their way down the stairs to the cafeteria. The line was short today, so that was good for them. Philip got beef, like he said he would get earlier, and Maxwell the same thing. Went to a nearby table in a corner and sat down.
"Open it, let's see what it says," Philip said as he sliced the beef into small pieces.
"Hey give me a minute, let me eat first." Maxwell did the same with his beef, but paused for a moment and looked up at him. "Hey Philip, have you mixed your soup with your rice?" he asked.
"No? I don't think I have done that yet. Is it good?"
"Oh yeah, it definitely is." He scooped out the rice from the box and dropped it into the soup with moderation. "Wait, haven't I told you to do this before?"
"No, you told me to eat gasoline and rice, but not soup."
"Oh yeaaaah." He grinned slightly and tilted his head to the side slightly. "Did you?" he whispered.
"What sane guy would eat rice and gasoline?!" Philip yelled.
Maxwell laughed while placing the chopped meat into the soaked rice and mixed them together. "I'm joking, just joking." He winked at him and placed the chopsticks down. "Anyways, let's eat up. I'm dying to see what's inside."
Philip nodded and did the same with his rice and mixed the soup with it as well as the meat. He lifted the bowl to his lips and scooped it into his mouth in unison with Maxwell.
Philip's eyes lit up from joy as the mixed soup enveloped his taste buds in a oasis of flavor. "Ooohhhh I wish that I've done this from the beginning," Philip said as he shoved the rest in.
"I know right?" Maxwell said while finishing up his meal. "Wanna try gasoline and rice now?"
"As if!" Philip slammed his bowl down and sighed. "Just open the letter already."
"Fine fine." Maxwell pulled out the envelope and carefully removed the seal. A powerful scent of perfume filled their nostrils, making Philip gag and cover his nose. "Dude what kind of perfume is she using?"
Maxwell took a deep whiff of it and coughed. "Bro that's the stench of freedom," he said while waving the pink cloud away from his face. "She's definitely using American perfume, cuz gosh dang, that reminds me of my mother." He cleared his throat and pulled out the piece of paper inside. It was a folded piece of pink lined paper with a large black heart on the back. He unfolded it and looked at the writing. Philip scooted closer to him so he could see.
Maxwell took a deep breath and read the letter out loud: "Dear Maxwell Marquez,
I am your one true love, the only one person who truly cares about you, owo.
Your so cute to me and so speciel. I would dy for you.
My hart ponds so hard for you whenever I see you, I feel like a frog.
Did you know that frogs absorb water trew there skin so they dont need to drink?
UwU, your just so pretty. You're dark skin, your fluufy hare, that stinch your arm pit makes when you esxersise, I love it all.
I smell your underwear every Tuesday when you go workout at pe. It's such a great smell. I want to make it into a perfume.
Oh, yes, you make me moest, you are my moisterizer.
I was shy at first so I didn't want to confess to you yet, but now that I have the courage, I want to tell you something… but I want to do it in person *bloshes*.
Meet me after school in the baseball field, were the broken tree is. I'll be weiting 3
From your one truesterest love."
They sat there in silence, examining the letter. They were actually trying their hardest to decipher whatever it said. The handwriting was illegible and was like chicken scratches. The worst part was that it was sprinkled with so much glitter and glue, it was a miracle they could see any of the writing at all. There were a few… questionable stains on it too.
Maxwell finally broke the ice by saying, "I'm sorry, what?"
"Honestly, same," Philip replied as he took the letter and flipped it upside down. "What kind of drugs was she on? Was this written by a five year old?"
"Hey, remember what I said about the, "I got my own girl", stuff? Yeah, forget that." Maxwell sat back down and groaned. "... Kill me," he muttered.
"Hey now, don't be so down," Philip said, trying to cheer him up. "She could be hot—"
"A hot five year old?"
"That's… not what I meant." Philip flipped the letter around again and squinted at the chicken marks which were supposedly writing. "Uhhhh it says something about love and frogs… Ah! Here! It says to uhhhh meet her at the baseball fields after school by the broken tree."
Maxwell sighed and laid his head against the table. "To be honest, I don't really want to go and find out if she's real or not anymore. It's probably an old lady who wants to give me cookies or something."
"Hey, you'll never know until you try." He patted Maxwell's back and smiled. "Who knows, it might be Valence—"
"Sign me up," Maxwell said as his head suddenly shot up.
"You're still attached to her?!"
"How could I not be?! She's hot!"
"Oh my god, let's just get this over with so you can move on."
—
Class lasted what felt like years. The two boys were curious and determined to find out which illiterate child sent them a death note about smelling armpits. It was the only thing that filled their minds.
Philip's leg shook violently, his thoughts scattered within his mind. Who was this girl? What's her name? Why does she, or he, like Maxwell? What does she want with him?
As for Maxwell, the only thing he could think about was that there could be a possibility that it was Valence who gave him the love letter. He mumbled to himself mindless fantasies as he stared at the clock. Just a few more minutes till the bell would ring.
Every second that passed made them feel like they would explode from excitement. Their hearts beated faster and faster until—
The bell rang throughout the school, alerting everyone that the day was over.
Nearly instantaneously, Philip and Maxwell stood up and bolted out of the classroom with their backpacks hung loosely by their arms. Maxwell caught up with Philip as they ran down the stairs and out the exit.
"The broken tree, right?" Maxwell asked as he darted across the fields to the baseball field.
"Yeah, that's what the letter said," Philip answered while zooming ahead of him. "You go by the tree and act all natural while I hide, got it?"
The tree, the students humbly named the "Disabled Tree", was the only tree that was unique in the school. Unlike the rest of the forest surrounding them, this tree broke in half and fell on the ground. Even stranger was that roots started to grow from the branches and branches grew from the trunk. It was a wonder to how it still survived in its situation.
"But what do I say to her? 'Sup, you're so illiterate I thought you were Shakespeare's feces?'" He stopped in his tracks and squinted at the tree in the distance.
Standing by the Disabled Tree was a girl with long brown hair that reached down to her skirt. The side of her face was facing them, but her eyes were concentrated on the tree below. She scratched at it with some kind of small stick in her hand.
"Holy shit, that's Valence," Maxwell said with awe as he stared at the girl. She was tall and slim. Her brown hair draped down to her skirt. Her skin was light and perfect; eyes so cold, they could convince someone to kill themselves. Her peach lips glinted from the fainting light of the sun, so soft and delicate, so beautiful.
Philip stopped and backtracked. "You sure that's her?"
"My eyes would never deceive me from my one true love," Maxwell answered. He patted his pants, thinking of what to do for a moment, then licked his hand and combed his hair, straightened his back, and strutted confidently towards her.
Philip ran to the side of the baseball fields and hid behind the fences. He watched Maxwell approach Valence with such a powerful and confident aura. His chin was up, his eyes were wide open… too wide open, and his mouth was curved into a very strange smile that looked stressed.
Maxwell stood behind Valence and waved at her awkwardly. She didn't notice.
"Oh my god dude, what the hell are you doing?" Philip muttered as he scooted around closer.
Maxwell cleared his throat loud enough for her to notice. She turned around and looked down at him slightly. "Oh," she said once she saw him.
He extended his arm to greet her with a shaky hand, waiting for a handshake. "hI tHeRe, mY nAmE Is—" He coughed and cleared his throat. "Uhhh…" his face was turning red from embarrassment. "Uh… Maxwell… My name is Maxwell…"
Philip face palmed and slid onto the floor. "Kill me already," he muttered, probably in unison to Maxwell's thought process.
Maxwell shifted uncomfortably where he stood and looked down at the ground, his confident facade dispersed within seconds. "I— uh, got a uh, a love letter and it was in my locker… and stuff… I-i-i-it told me to go to the broken tree in the, um, the baseball fields… so I, yeah… I came…"
Valence's eyes lit up and she hugged Maxwell with a tight squeeze. "Oh my god you came!" she squealed with joy. "I'm so glad you did! I've been waiting for you for hours!"
Philip paused his groaning and stared at the sky. Something felt off. Why was she waiting for hours? Did she skip class?
Maxwell's face was so red and hot that if steam could be seen exiting his nose and ears, it would flood the entire school. "S-s-so were you the one who sent that letter, Valence?" he asked as he was shaken around in a tight hug.
"Of course! I love you so much! You're so cute and nice and funny and sweet!" She smelt his hair and smiled. "I've been watching you for such a long time."
Philip removed his hands from his face and frowned at the sky. His senses for danger rose. He didn't like where this was going.
"B-but I thought you had a boyfriend already Valence?" Maxwell said, his face still red hot.
"Aww, don't be silly. I've only loved you and only you. I only said I had a boyfriend so that no one else would be curious about me," she explained with a smile.
"Liar…" Philip whispered as he peeked over the fence. His danger senses were on full overload. He knew she was lying because he saw her with Charleston last week holding hands. He disappeared two days ago with a note saying that he was sick. To say that she didn't have a boyfriend was suspicious at the least.
"Maxwell…" Valence blushed and stared deeply into Maxwell's eyes. "Will… will you accept my confession? Can I be your girlfriend? I love you so much, you just have no idea."
"I… I accept it, Valence," Maxwell answered and hugged her back.
"Well then, I'll walk you home today Maxwell," Valence said and ruffled his hair. "I know exactly where you live, so we'll get there in no time." She held his hand and led him towards the road just as she shot a look at Philip.
She knew exactly where he was hiding. Her glare was devilish, that of a psychopath. Her sweet smile was now cruel and murderous to Philip. It was a big sign that told him to screw off.
Philip sat back down on the ground and waited until their footsteps disappeared. Once he was sure they were gone, he sighed and leaned against the fence. "I don't like this… I don't like this at all," he muttered.
Philip hasn't known Valence that well, nor that long. She's been a student at this school for two years now. From what Philip's seen so far, she's a kind and smart girl with perfect grades. She does sports, clubs, and helps students in need, the definition of an idol student.
But this side of her, he's never seen it before. She's hidden it so well from everyone, but why now? Why would she reveal this side of herself now? It made no sense. He had to get to the bottom of this before anyone else got hurt.
"I have to tell Emiya so he can take care of her—" Philip paused where he was and stared at his hand. If he went to Emiya to tell him what he saw, he'll investigate himself and probably have him transfer schools, leaving his friends behind. Even worse, they'll have to change houses, and then his secret training schedule would be ruined.
Philip winced and placed his hand down. He had to do this himself. If he didn't, his hero training would be ruined.
This was his first mission as a hero, the mission that would prove if he was worthy or not.
He clenched his fist and stood up. "Let's do this," he told himself, filled with determination to become a hero. "Let's get to the bottom of this."