Hey, a quick clarifying note at the top. This is a three-way crossover between Fate, Arknights, and Granblue Fantasy. There's no way for me to signify more than two, and I'd make it apparent in the actual story as well.
Ritsuka had a hard time adjusting to new things. Tripping down the stairs to your first job interview and then waking up an amnesiac to a mysterious magic time police organization and having your shit rocked within the first half-hour of being awake was never fun. So he endeavoured to ensure that nothing like that would ever, ever catch him off guard again.
It happened again within the next week when he had his ass chased by two separate dragons, one being in a notable state of undress.
So what if being slow on the uptake was a chronic issue? He'd very adamantly claim that rolling with the punches was a strong suit of his. Just a fluke, he said, there was no possible way that his luck was actually that bad. He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day, it's all. Oh no, it's not terrible luck, he just didn't get enough protein from last night's dinner.
So upon waking up, he ran through his routine like he had all this time. Swinging out of bed, he was careful to make sure that the area next to his feet was clear of any obstructions, taking a quick moment to check under his bed with a flashlight for anything out of place, like snake girls, assassins, or his mother. Upon seeing that his immediate vicinity was free of hazards, he made a beeline to the ensuite washroom, opening the dresser bolted into the wall next to the door along the way.
One pair of Chaldea's Arctic Combat Uniform was in his possession, all according to plan. A quick search of five minutes yielded no red flags as he took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and got dressed. He made sure to thoroughly dry the floors after getting out of the bath, as he'd done ever since the "Great Mildew-ing of Summer 2016." Even though Chaldea was supposed to be climate controlled and his shower was barely damp when he left for the American Singularity, he somehow managed to grow a healthy colony of fungus in his bathroom with more ease than counting to three, since he didn't even have to do anything. A true one-in-a-million occurrence, Dr. Roman had said, after Ritsuka found the uncomfortably large patch of vegetation inhabiting the corner of his bathtub.
Next on the docket, breakfast. Routine at the Wandering Sea had all but normalized at this point. There wasn't much to do while the Border was still in drydock, so Ritsuka was keen to enjoy as much of his peace as he could. Well, as much within reason, anyways. 48… 49… 50… he counted his steps, before stopping at 50 to look behind his shoulder and down at his feet. Nothing to trip on, check. No one tailing him, check. No one in front of him… not check.
Uh oh.
"Yo, Master!" Celtic entourage, 11 o'clock. If there was anything that the Celtic servants were, they were persuasive, and very passionate about two things. Training, and day drinking. Well, drinking anytime, but whenever they wanted liquor, they would get it in large amounts. The former was simply bad for his health, since no matter what he did, it appeared as if the most prominent word in their vernacular was "more."
"Good morning, Fergus. Medb." He kept it curt. Betray no concern, give them a pleasant smile, say what they want to hear. It was tedious, yes, but being able to pass without incident was a prize he was willing to do a lot for.
"Morning, Ritsu~, Fergus and I were just on our way to the simulator, for some physical training. Wanna come join?" Medb asked, her syrupy tone forcing Ritsuka to do everything in his power to not openly cringe. He didn't know if she was joking or not, but at this point, he'd always responded with the same response as always.
"Sorry, but I have things to get to, you two can go enjoy yourselves though."
"Oh, you always say that! What things are there to do on this rock? Fill out paperwork? Twiddle your thumbs waiting for the next big crisis to fall on your head? Live a little, Ritsuka!" Medb looked annoyed. They'd done this same song and dance for months now, but Ritsuka didn't mind. A bit of ire was better than a day's worth of trouble.
"My business is my business, yours is your own. Besides, I'm pretty sure you two would have a lot more fun… undisturbed."
"Bah, we know how to play nice. All I'm saying is that you're too high-strung! Let out some stress, by doing, I don't know, guy stuff!"
"Really? 'Guy stuff?'" Ok, this was new.
"Yeah! Like running around at night and getting into fights!"
"Alright, nope. Conversation's over. I'm not getting roped into some crazy LARPing you're doing on the way to your bed." Medb sputtered, but Ritsuka paid her no mind as he walked on by. He usually liked being more patient with his servants, but the truth was, he was at the end of his tether. He was sick and tired of being stuck with the short end of the stick. He'd been relegated to the role of a professional wallflower at this point, and Medb was right. He needed to live a little.
He reached the cafeteria before long, but he decided to forgo his usual check. Usually, he'd open the door, but not walk in. One look to the left, check his corners first. Then check the floor. He knew that more often than not, somebody would drop their food exactly where his feet would land, which never caused him to trip, but he'd be more concerned with the recent blighting of his footwear via foodstuffs. Then, he'd trip over something else, often a chair leg, or an actual leg, and fall face-first into the salad bar. Just like last week.
But now, he felt emboldened. Medb was absolutely right, this was no way to live. Bad luck or not, he'd suffered through 17 years of this, but not anymore! By stepping through the threshold, he would not only attain his breakfast normally, but he would grasp his new life as well! Let it be known that today was the day that Ritsuka Fujimaru shed his skin, and became a real man! Someone worthy of saving humanity! Someon-
The moment his foot passed through the doorway, a piece of what he later found to be tabasco-slathered scrambled eggs landed in his eye from across the room. The hot sauce burned his eye, causing him to stumble forward, blindly. He felt his foot land in something squishy, but when he tried to remove his foot from it, the object slid out from underneath him. He would later learn it was a waffle dropped by one of the staff members, who was bending over to pick it up when he made contact. Speaking of, she shot up, appalled by his gaff, doubly so when he collided with her on his way down. She didn't fall with him though, since she pushed away on reflex.
Second after wretched second passed, suspended in slow motion as Ritsuka sailed forward with all the grace of a three-wheeled limousine. But all good/bad things come to an end, as the forces of gravity were very much working as intended, and Ritsuka's face met white tile with a hard smack. But inertia was also doing its work, and how come Ritsuka never noticed how strong Ms. Sylvia was? Because he was going awfully fast. Oh, very fast. Somehow he was able to process the fact that his feet were passing over his head as he flipped over onto his back, sliding the last few feet into the wall, where his head hit the far side of the room like a hockey puck.
Laughter erupted from the far side of the room, from multiple places actually. He was acutely aware of two heads looking down at him with notably different flavours of concern. Both of them had pinkish, lilac hair, but he couldn't really guess who they would be at the moment. You know, despite pink being a wholly unnatural hair colour, it was funny how many people had pink hair at a place like Chaldea. Funny how he'd met more people with pink here than in his entire life.
And so, that was how Ritsuka ended his short-lived dreams of a proper breakfast entrance, drifting into unconsciousness, his thoughts landing on the absurdity of the situation of Chaldea's hair colours.
He awoke wrapped in bandages from head to toe, with only his eyes and mouth uncovered. He could scarcely move either, which was strange since he felt no pain. Well, at the moment anyway, subject to change. His confused groans were enough to attract the attention of the first head of pink to the right of his suspected bedside.
"Oh! Senpai's awake, Miss Nightingale!"
"Mash?" He croaked, beating the chalky taste from his mouth. Mash looked back at him with a concerned frown, while Florence Nightingale rounded the corner from around a curtain. Ah, he was in Novum Chaldea's medbay. "What happened…?"
"Oh good, you're awake," Nightingale parroted Mash's observation, perhaps just to mark that off her laundry list of procedures she made up for herself. "You had a mishap with some errant pieces of foodstuffs, which resulted in two counts of severe head trauma, with a heavy risk of concussion."
Ah. So that actually happened.
"I've treated you as per proper procedure, so please, get some proper rest. Or else-"
"I'll kill you, yeah, I get the picture." Nightingale quirked an eyebrow at Ritsuka's attitude, but whether or not that fell within her nursing parameters was beyond him. That, or she elected to ignore it.
"I was going to inform you of the consequences of consecutive head traumas, but it's good to know we're on the same page. Please, do take better care of yourself, Master. I will be frank in saying that this was quite the embarrassing and physically taxing incident, and I do wish that you will endeavour to be more careful with your escapades in the future." With her diatribe out of the way, Nightingale shot the two another cursory glance before turning and walking out of the cubicle.
"...but I already am though…" Ritsuka muttered as the Berserker left earshot. Mash, once again, fixed her Senpai with a frown, before Ritsuka spoke again. "Well, since she's out of here, would you mind helping me out of these bandages, Mash?"
"Oh! Sure, let me help you with that!" She replied hurriedly, making quick work of the medical bindings. Ritsuka had been wrapped like a mummy, one layer of gauze over the other. Once his arms were free, he got to work ripping the rest of his bandages off with no shortage of haste but made sure to roll them up and place them in his pocket.
"Why are you taking those, Senpai?" She asked.
"Oh, you know, I'd just feel better if I knew that accident fuel like this was somewhere safe. Like on my person. At all times. Yeah, hah… uh…" He responded awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. However, he winced as he ran his fingers over a particularly tender spot. Mash, likewise, shuffled uncomfortably.
"Um… in that case, how about when get going then? It's clear you're itching to get out of here," she said in an attempt to clear the air and get him back on his feet.
"That is 100% true, yeah. What's the time?"
Mash rolled up her sleeve and took a quick peek at a simple digital watch. "It's a bit past lunch, actually, 3:00 PM GMT."
Ritsuka froze. "Ah shit, were you waiting here the whole time?" He looked overwhelmingly apologetic, which frankly made Mash melt a little inside.
"Oh no, it's fine. I don't mind at all. I wasn't too hungry anyway," she dismissed with a wave, though she knew it wouldn't help Ritsuka much. The boy sighed, massaging his brow and blinking away whatever remains of dreariness sat behind his eyelids. He swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed and slipped on his boots at the front of the cubicle, prompting Mash to follow him out into the hallway.
Novum Chaldea was never as packed or lively as life back at the Antarctic facility was, but there were still familiar faces roaming the halls. Jeanne Alter wasted no time to point and laugh upon seeing her Master's face rounding the corner, while some others exchanged their expected sympathies for another fit of misfortune. For his part, Ritsuka took it in stride, he still had work to do.
"What's next on the docket then, Mash?" He asked, turning to his kouhai next to him. She paused for a second, before giving her response.
"We don't have any proper assignments today, and no new reports have come in. All that we have to do today is our daily summoning." Ritsuka nodded.
"Cool. Let's get that done, and maybe we can spend the rest of the day actually relaxing," the pair reached their consensus, and they set off for Novum Chaldea's proper summoning chamber. "Who knows, we haven't spent that much time together recently. Maybe we could watch a movie or something?"
"Y-Yeah! That would be great!" Mash replied gleefully. Ritsuka smiled as well.
"Great, I've been in the mood for one of those cheesy Hong Kong action movies. Then again, you want to watch anything?"
"I'm fine with whatever Senpai chooses. Though truth be told, I've heard a lot about those films from the other servants who enjoy the medium, but I can't say I know too much. What are they about?"
Ritsuka rubbed the back of his head in thought. "Ah, well, there really isn't much to say about 'em that you can't say about most action flicks. Our dashing hero punches, kicks, and backflips his way through a bunch of bad guys, people get beat up, and the day is saved. But then again, they do a lot of crazy shit in those…"
"It seems… eccentric."
"Oh, they are. I've only ever seen clips but they look like a lot of fun. Seeing them galavanting around and doing crazy shit, liking hanging off helicopters or all that 'gun-fu' jazz, it's really… appealing to me." He held his fists in front of him as if to emphasize his point. "All the stunts are just incredible, it's absolutely insane."
"Well, Senpai is a guy after all," Mash said with a pointed grin.
"Hehe… maybe that's why." I can't deny it though, that shit looks way too damn cool!
The doors slid open as the duo stepped into the summoning room. Thick wires and cables snaked along the steel floor, connected to whatever ports and outlets Sion had installed in the walls. Never doubt the work of a genius, much less mess with it. No matter what, Ritsuka knew that he would inevitably mess something up. Which was why he resigned himself to courier duty, grabbing clusters of rainbow-coloured octahedrons from a storage safe in the wall and pushing the button, while Mash ran all the calibrations and input summoning parameters. You know, the important stuff.
The first summoning went as expected. Ritsuka offered three of the prismatic rocks to the dias and threw the switch. Orbs of energy swirled and formed concentric rings, before revealing the information of the Spirit Origin they had managed to capture. Unfortunately, it was one they already had in their catalogue, Tawara Touta, to be exact. The martial arts master had been here since the end of their adventures in Camelot.
And so, Ritsuka went back to retrieve some more of this fabled quartz, opening the safe and snatching three from the container. But, as he should have known, disaster struck hard and fast, in the form of a thick rubber cable.
His foot caught the snaking length of conductive tubing, and he stumbled but righted himself. Mash looked at him in concern, but upon finding himself on his own two feet, they both let out a sigh of relief. All was fine.
But the damage was done.
The cable had been nudged just a hair out of its socket, and to make it worse, this cable was properly important. This was a fibre-optic cable that ran data from the terminal to the system, and then the FATE system would use this data and interpolate it into the targeting Spirit Origin. Magecraft fibre optics were something not to be fucked with.
Of course, this led to the inevitable question. Why weren't these secured, or run under the floor? The plan was to renovate the room tomorrow, actually, Ritsuka just came in at the wrong time, as always.
So when they threw the switch, the orbs looked a little bit fuzzier than usual. And by fuzzy, they were flickering. Mash shot Ritsuka a look of pointed concern, which he returned, instantly reaching for the kill switch. The red plastic cover was lifted, revealing a small silver flick switch. Ritsuka slid his thumb underneath it and flicked up-
The room was painted white.
"GUBUH!?" Ritsuka awoke in a different place for the second time that day, but this time, he was outside, on cold, hard asphalt. It was damp, it had just rained, it looked like. He felt himself over, patting down his chest, his legs, and planting a hand on his forehead. Yep, he was fine, and he was definitely real. Now the question was, was the rest of this real?
He was propped against the side of a brick building, it was nighttime. He was in an alley of some sort, and the glow of what looked like neon shone in from the far side of the narrow road, reflecting off the rain-soaked concrete. Instantly, Ritsuka started hyperventilating, feeling his eyes water and losing feeling in his extremities. He was panicking now. Not good, he needed to calm himself and assess the situation. He took in deep, painful breaths, working himself back into a more level state.
First issue, Mash. Was she somewhere in this strange locale? If so, he'd need to find her ASAP. This was akin to Rayshifting to a brand new singularity, but picking their objectives by throwing darts.
"Mash? Mash?! Are you there, Mash?!" He called out her name down the alleyway, looking to his left and to his right, but not hearing any response. He also reached for his belt and grabbed his communication device, the magecraft-borne trinket humming for a beat, but coming up with a big "no signal" alert. It didn't look like there was much in the alley as well, save for the usual fare of garbage and disposed belongings, as well as another body. Wait, other body?
About fifteen feet down was the body of a young man, dressed in some form of armour? He recognized it as some loose relation to plate mail, having seen it multiple times on Servants like Gawain, but the figure seemed to only wear select pieces, strapped overtop a blue hoodie and interwoven with leather bracings. They mainly covered his arms and chest, which was to be expected, as Ritsuka's eyes landed on what appeared to be a scabbard on his belt, which was adorned with loops and trinkets with which to affix other items. His pants were baggy, presumably wool or cotton, and his shins were covered in simple greaves. Compared to Ritsuka's uniform, however, the guy looked like he stepped out of time. Seriously, who wore a hoodie with cosplay junk like that?
Either way, as soon as Ritsuka noticed him, the boy began to stir, propping himself upon the ground.
"...eh? Jamil…? Why'd you gotta be s'loud mane…?" He slurred, working his way to his feet. He shook his head tiredly, leaning up against the wall to steady himself. He planted his face in his palm, blinking rapidly in recollection of the events that lead up to this moment. That was when his eyes met Ritsuka's.
The two stood there for a while, not really responding, but more or less looking everywhere other than each other. They shuffled around a little bit, taking a few steps in the opposite direction before turning around and ending up where they started, kicking some scraps of trash around or staring at a scurrying rat. Something to keep them occupied.
Well, this is awkward… Ritsuka found himself opening his mouth a few times to try and start a conversation, but he always closed it when he looked back at the other figure. He hazarded a wave, but when he saw that the other man was looking the other way, he sheepishly lowered his arm back down to scratch the back of his head, especially when he turned back to look at him. He took a deep breath, before turning back to face him.
"Uh…"
"So…"
They both spoke at the same time and froze again. Here they were, two guys in a dark, damp, murky alleyway in some city they'd never seen before. No wonder why the counsellors at school always liked opening with icebreakers.
"I, uh, take it you're lost as well?" Ritsuka posed. The other guy nodded, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, since he quickly righted himself and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Yeah. You could say that I'm not exactly from around here."
"Yeah. Solid. Same here."
They lapsed back into a slightly-less awkward silence after they cleared the air between them a little bit. Ritsuka sort of waited for him to take the next conversation starter, but nothing really came. He decided to take the initiative once more.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name?" He asked, causing the other man to turn back to face him fast. He ran a gauntleted hand through his sandy-brown hair and responded.
"My name's Gran. Your's?"
"You can call me Ritsuka."
"Ritsuka, eh? I don't believe I've heard of someone with a name like yours where I'm from," Gran replied. "Guess we're both a little far out of our comfort zones, eh? Literally and figuratively."
"Oh yeah, I get you. Don't think I know too many people like you where I'm from either."
"Very true. How many mooks do you see running around waving a sword in a hoodie and slacks?" The two boys shared a chuckle at that. "Man, this has got to be the weirdest island I've seen though… what ARE those lights coming from out there? And where's Vyrn anyway? That little rascal has to be rooting around in one of these garbage cans."
Ritsuka quirked an eyebrow at that. "Island? How do you know this is an island?"
"Uh… how would I not? It's not like, you know, all civilization isn't built around these endless islands that we have to live on or fall into an endless abyss? Anyway, have you seen a small, leathery, screechy little mascot-type character around here?" Gran fixed him with his own quizzical look, one Ritsuka was keen on returning.
"Endless islands? What is this, One Piece? What are you talking about!?"
"What's this about the One Piece? That treasure that Luffy keeps going on about?"
"Yeah, the one about discovering the secrets of the world and… we're not on the same page, are we?" Wait, why was he talking about them like they knew each other?
"Nope, not at all."
Gran and Ritsuka both seemed to ponder their newfound predicament.
"I'll let you go first, Gran-san," Ritsuka gestured, walking up to face the other boy. Gran nodded, leaning back into the brick wall and relaxing his posture. He sighed, looking up into the brightly coloured night sky, as the lights painted the inky black numerous hues of red, blue, and everything in between.
"I guess we should get moving though, find a better place to talk than a dingy alleyway," Gran added first, to which Ritsuka responded with an understanding nod.
"Oh yeah, totally. Two weirdly-dressed guys in a dark alleyway is pretty damn suspicious, not gonna lie," he agreed. Gran chuckled some more as the two walked out onto the neon-soaked streets, the skyline filling with the visage of towering skyscrapers, all suspended in the air above this shanty town they found themselves in. Ritsuka, to his own surprise, could actually read the signs to an extent.
'Is that… Chinese?' His eyes flickered with familiarity, but he decided to forgo it for now in favour of listening to Gran's tale.
"Well, it all started yesterday…"
To say that Gran was tired would be a massive understatement.
Twenty-one hours. Twenty-one long, straining hours of straight combat, constant issuing of commands, putting out literal and figurative fires constantly, all while trying to make sure that a primordial beast twice the size of his ship didn't turn him into a sloppy red pinata. He was practically a dead man walking as he stumbled his way across the deck of the Grandcypher.
Several of his crew exchanged respectful nods with their captain as he walked past, and he was endlessly grateful for their continued support, especially through a mess as stressful as this one. Putting down Bahamut of all things was no easy feat, but dealing with the primordial version of an already powerful beast that helped birth the cosmos? One that seemed to have it out for him specifically in the first place, no less.
So yeah, maybe he could use a bit of a breather.
It was chaos when it first awoke, beating them down with one attack after another with extreme prejudice, slipping out of the massive rift in the sky as if it was being born again, which it was, the more Gran thought about it. After the first hour, the crew collectively decided that they were most certainly not prepared for a beast of such stature, and opted to back out to the edge of the island's airspace while calling in every favour they could get their hands on.
So then, after hours of prep work, they were FINALLY ready to face Proto-Bahamut again… until it glanced right at one of their other ships and turned it into a convertible before they could even touch down. Not a good precedent for the new hands on the job, was it? And as the captain in charge, he was running damage control the whole time. This was eight hours without sleep at this point, but you know what? He'd suffered worse. He'd died once, he was sure that he could handle just a little bit of crunch time.
But then some random idiots decided to overlook the fact that, you know, maybe the living idol of a beast of primeval authority might have some form of adaptive resistance to spells that were critical to their plan? So not even thirty minutes into touching down, the lunkheads went ahead and cast their spells, and put Bahamut on lockdown… before it promptly broke out and turned the forest range behind them into Satan's saucepan.
And the twenty-one hours of combat had just started now.
If it wasn't apparent by now, Gran already knew the taste of death well. His first step on this journey was a step taken into the dark beyond, before being pulled back onto his quest. His grand vision of reaching the end of the sky was one that he held near and dear to his heart. But now, in the face of overwhelming power and idiocy, he found himself doubting himself just this once.
What good was he here?
Of course, he was forced to abandon that train of thought as Bahamut almost gave him a Skyfall-induced facelift. Because he literally dropped a part of the sky on him around hour nine of active combat. But Gran got his slashes in while he could, the whole team threw everything they had at it. Even then, it was slow going. It loved changing its scales and elemental origin, because it was a God, of course, it could. Gran had to call the changes every time, because he knew that if he didn't, somebody was bound to attack it with the same element and sent them back another half-hour's worth of progress.
Which happened three times, by the way. Had he mentioned how tired he was? Because he was really tired.
He didn't know how they managed to fell the beast, but that wasn't even the worst part. Remember how it seemed to have it out for him? As in, it really wanted to turn him into a 'Gran-Branded Wall Ornament,' or some 'Gran Flavoured Special Sauce' that varied from 'smooth and creamy' to 'extra chunky.'
Dying didn't feel good, that was for sure, he wasn't keen on experiencing it again. This meant it got pretty irritating every time Bahamut fixed its blindfolded gaze on his body and made a beeline for him. The last time it tried this, it almost worked too, as one of its massive leathery wings would have cut him clean in half if he hadn't managed to deflect it with his blade. He realized now how lucky he was to be standing here, as if the angle had been any sharper, he would have been snapped like a twig. Any shallower, and he would have gone flying a lot further than he did.
"Gran, it's coming for you again!"
"GRAN, MOVE!"
He still winced at the memory, not to mention how sore his back was from skidding to a very painful stop after taking the hit. He tried to relax, but even with how tired he was, he couldn't get a wink of sleep. He was way too high-strung for this. The good news was, they would be coming back into town within the hour, and the crew of the Grandcypher could finally earn themselves some well-deserved rest. But him? He still had work to do. Clean-up solutions, doling out pay, compensation for what was lost, he was the head captain, after all.
He settled on the port-side railing, looking out into the vast expanse, the azure abyss offering him some amount of solace, but nothing enough to calm his frayed nerves and clammy hands. He massaged his brow, and he suddenly felt like a man three times his age.
"Oi, oi. Something's got you down." An arm draped around his neck as a familiar voice sounded in his ear.
"Rackam," Gran acknowledged, shaking his weariness away before looking to face his friend. The taller man fixed him with a light grin before rubbing his stubble thoughtfully. He looked the young captain up and down as if judging him. Gran took a bit of a step back, fixing him with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh yeah, you definitely need a break. You look like shit," Rackam eventually decided.
"Is that all? Tell me something I don't know," Gran responded dryly.
"To celebrate a job well done, some of the guys and I were thinking of hitting the town, enjoying ourselves the good ol' fashioned way. I'm not one to crack the booze at every occasion, but I'd say we earned it this once." Rackam made a convincing case, but Gran still had way too much on his mind. Alcohol was super low on the list of helpful coping strategies as well, so he really didn't trust himself to keep himself under control, so he respectfully declined.
"There's a time to let loose, man. You've earned it more than the rest of us. It can wait until tomorrow, you need to take care of yourself, first and foremost. You're our captain, after all." Rackam patted him on the shoulder, which Gran shrugged off tiredly. The older man sighed.
"I was like you when I was younger, you know? Always in a rush."
"Really now? As if you're not in a rush these days?" Gran shot back. Rackam snorted.
"Grandcypher-related matters are different from regular matters, but you, my friend, have no excuse." Gran once again opened his mouth to protest, but Rackam cut him off.
"You don't get to refute this, we're taking you out tonight." And once again, Gran sighed. He threw his arms up in tired defeat, giving his buddy a haggard grin.
"Alright fine, I'll try not to drink myself silly," he had said this as he practically toppled down the gangplank to solid ground. He felt his apprehensions melt away as soon as his feet met the road. Oh man, did it feel good to be standing on some proper milled bricks.
The next few hours were a bit of a blur. He remembered arriving at the tavern, having shunted Lyria off on the rest of the Grandcypher crew at some point that he couldn't quite recall. He remembered drinking, well, a bit. Then he remembered throwing up. A lot.
He actually threw up so much that the barkeep had punted him out the side door to go empty his stomach of sick in private. He'd only been drinking in moderation though! He had self-control! He was just taking sips of whatever was around, yeah. But then again, what was that thing he was told? 'Liquor before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before liquor, never been sicker.' Yeah, that was it. Made sense.
"Oogh…" Gran stumbled from behind the alleyway, knocking his head against the brick walls on either side of him in an ongoing attempt to keep himself righted as he made his way back toward the tavern. His vision was spinning a considerable amount, something he thought he'd be used to, given his constant air travel. Then again, he wasn't sure how he ended up like this in the first place.
The world around him was washed in sepia tones and mysterious movements, the air around him simply moving provided him more than enough stimulation to make it feel like he was being pushed into a concrete wall. He was carried by inertia, swaying back and forth like a pendulum, his limbs flopping about like they were boneless. It was fine! He had proper self-control, right?
"Uff…!" He swayed a little too hard to the right and his shoulder struck the corner of a nearby building, throwing him into a nearby alleyway. He stumbled forward a bit, before he tripped over himself and he fell to the trash-ridden floor. His stomach churned and roiled in his gut as he shook himself off. He rested his back on the alleyway wall, only for the wall to… fall backwards? More like swinging open, he found, only for the sharp rolling impacts of a flight of stairs to strike his back. He heard voices. Where those voices? Gran couldn't tell through how the room was spinning life if a tornado was having a field day in here. Here being the room. Right, the room. Uh, the room…
"Vyrn? You… you there, buddy?"
The first step was taken in swirling confusion as Gran struggled to find the walls of the room, only to find that it was a hallway that reached out in front of his blurred vision. "Ish thish even the bar?" He drunkenly wondered, leaning towards his side and mercifully feeling the thump of his left shoulder on the wall.
Hearing the echoed voices reaching out from in front of him, Gran shuffled along the left-hand wall, gripping it like a lifeline as he pulled himself down the hall. "Ugh… somebody'sh gotta 'ave a glassh o' water…"
The young captain struggled his way forward, eventually finding his face planted into a door. He felt around at waist height and eventually grasped the doorknob with a sweaty palm. In his drunken state, he didn't even think about knocking.
The spinning abated slightly, a small mercy that Gran accepted wholeheartedly. Giving himself enough presence of thought to give the doorknob a twist, allowing him to trip his way through the doorway. His field of view was littered with glitters and sparkles. Faint candlelight tickled his corneas as he fell sideways. The force of him hitting the ground was enough to sharpen his vision, only slightly, but he was so out of it that he barely registered the sound of indignant voices reaching his ears. The sudden motion, coupled with his intimate actions with the stairs earlier, left him feeling quite queasy too, so he tried his best to contain the bile bubbling in his abdomen from making a rather vile statement.
He also understood he landed on something, more like he knocked something over. The voices grew louder as they approached his downed form, but there was a shout of warning. A bunch of folks in cloaks and a… picture of a tower? A call to return to their original positions or something like that. Be it the drunkenness or the head trauma, Gran couldn't make things out too clearly. Just as the world began to get dimmer and dimmer, what little light his eyes could latch onto became more blurred.
Three concentric rings circled around him, like halos. Rolling onto his back, Gran stared at the ceiling as bright lights bathed his body.
The sensation was different from dying, rather it was quite warm. Like being carried by a large hand, five fingers and all. Clutched by this strange ephemeral comfort, Gran allowed himself to doze off.
'Might as well sleep this off. Fuck a hangover.'
"...and then I woke up," Gran finished.
"Bro." Ritsuka shot his new friend a side-long glance. "I know I heard what you just said but no shot did you just drunkenly stumble onto a contrived ritual scene and somehow wreck all of it within five seconds. You landed on something? How the hell does that even work?!"
Gran shrugged. "Shit happens, I guess."
"...very true." Ritsuka sighed, leaning back onto a cheap fold-out chair. The two were seated under a café awning, two cups of ice water between them on a faux-glass round table. He looked back out onto the night-drenched streets, the reflections of the wet concrete drinking up the neon lights of signs that hung ten metres up. On second and third readings, they were definitely Chinese characters, although Ritsuka caught some signs written in Korean as well. Far above the sidestreets they walked, massive skyscrapers towered high and into the low-hanging cloud cover. Like shining pillars reaching up to heaven, it was like a scene from a science fiction movie, or an advertisement for a super-city.
From the signs he could read, most of them were for bars or restaurants, but the one name that continued to pop up over and over was the word "Lungmen." He'd never heard of that place on Earth, but he supposed a rough translation left room for error. Judging from Gran's reaction as well, there was a high possibility that this was far from either of their worlds, a notion that caused him to shudder.
Another feature that caused him to double-take at first glance was the prevalent animal features on the denizens of this city. Gran hadn't looked fazed in the slightest, but where the Master came from, the only people with animal parts were usually some form of Divine Spirit and always bad for his health.
"So, Chaldea? You're an organization that goes about to different times and places to solve diversions in history?" Said Gran through another sip of water.
Ritsuka nodded, saying, "that's the basic gist of it, yeah. Circumstances change, but the job still stands."
"Shit sounds rough, sounds like you really got the short end of it from how that sounds." Ritsuka let out a bark of laughter at that, chuckling and shaking his head to himself.
"You have no idea," he exhaled as he said so, taking a sip from his own cup. "But the captain of your own ship sounds pretty harsh too, I can sympathize with the paperwork and whatnot."
"Whoa, you have paperwork too?"
"Grunt work takes many shapes and forms, at least you get to pay yourself…" Gran looked pensive for a moment, before fixing the Master with a sharp gaze. The sudden shift caused Ritsuka to straighten in his seat. 'Talk about a Captain's charisma…!"
"Answer me honestly…" Ritsuka gulped. "...do you at least get extended medical?"
"What?" He pondered Gran's question for a second, more out of shock than anything else. Now that he thought about it, did he actually have benefits? "Uh, I don't think so? Are you saying you give your crew extended?"
"Pfft, yeah! What sort of employer would I be? These people work for me, we risk our lives out there, so I gotta make sure all their bills are filed. It's the least a proper Captain could do," Gran answered without a missed beat. "Do you at least have a 401k?"
"You have those too!?"
"Oh, come on, man. Didn't you read your 'Time-Space Superhero' contract or whatever?"
Sheepishly, the boy scratched the back of his head. "I, uh, didn't get a contract…"
Gran inhaled sharply, causing Ritsuka to inch his chair away. In an instant, the Captain had grabbed Ritsuka and shoved him in a headlock, delivering a sharp, grinding strike to his scalp with his knuckle. Yowling in pain, Ritsuka writhed in Gran's grip as he continued the noogie from hell. "YOU FOOL! WATCH FOR YOUR RIGHTS, DAMMIT! DON'T LET THEM WALK ALL OVER YOOOOOOOUUUUUUU!"
"AUGH! ABAH! ABAH! ABAH! I GOT IT, I GOT ITTTTTT! I HAVEN'T HAD TIME TO NEGOTIATE ANY RAISES SINCE THE WORLD KEEPS ENDING EVERY FIVE HOURRRRRSSSS!"
After about thirty seconds of torture, Ritsuka was able to throw the other boy off from around his back, shoving him out towards the street. The two of them heaved for a few seconds, eventually regaining their composure. Gran started towards the shelter of the awning once more, but a mass of people suddenly appeared, clipping his back and causing him to stumble.
"Oi, watch where you're going, punk!" One of the men cried angrily. He was wearing a slightly-dishevelled suit and tie, his collar a mess and his black fedora crumpled. Though as quick as it was to spit an insult, he was gone right after, following his party as they continued down the road at a brisque pace.
"That's not suspicious at all," Ritsuka pointed out as he walked over to join Gran. The rain had abated slightly now, but a light drizzle still fell. Pulling his hood over his head, Gran motioned for Ritsuka to follow as he tailed the group. With a trite of trepidation, he deigned to follow shortly thereafter. The two trailed behind for a few minutes more before they ducked into an alleyway. Not to be shaken, they quickly proceeded toward the same opening, ducking behind a dumpster as the group ahead fanned out, seemingly surrounding somebody.
From through the gaps in their bodies, the two boys made out the form of a woman dressed in a flowy black and purple satin dress, functional as streetwear yet elegant enough to elevate her status visually. Her hair was a curious shade of lilac, highlighted by a now-common sight – a pair of animal ears protruded from the top of her head. Her gaze was stony, fixing the ten or so men before her with little regard save for perhaps a small amount of apprehension.
"We've finally caught up, rat," one of them spoke in Cantonese, to which Ritsuka quirked an eyebrow. His understanding of the language was basic at best, but spending enough time with Chinese servants had given him enough of a foundation to make sense of some of their speech. The rat-woman didn't so much as speak, only responded with a raised eyebrow.
Gran's hand crept down to his blade, while Ritsuka balled his gloved fingers into a tight fist. Seventeen magic circuits blazed beneath his skin, his Mystic Code responding to his body stiffening with the power of reinforcement. Grabbing a discarded bottle from the ground, he held it by the neck as he looked over at his compatriot. Nodding, the two moved together.
Hucking the bottle with all his reinforced might, it shattered against the back of one of the thugs' heads, knocking him flat onto his face. Using this moment of shock before the fighting started, Gran swept forward and struck another in the side of the head with the flat of his blade, before plunging the pommel into another's gut and allowing Ritsuka to plant a hard straight into the unlucky man's nose.
Shaken from their stupor and down three men, the others quickly armed themselves, grabbing batons from their belts and crossbows concealed under their jackets. Gran hissed as a bolt passed by his cheek, striking the ground behind him with a sharp ping!
Ritsuka wasn't one to take this lightly, however, as he grabbed a lid from a nearby garbage can and slammed its rim into the offending sniper, before turning it to face another. This act was punctuated by the sharp snap of a bolt punching through the thin aluminum sheet of the can lid, the tip of the bolt stopping millimetres from his face. With no time to thank his lone lucky star, Ritsuka discarded the lid by hurling it at another man, although it was batted aside by a baton strike.
Taking the opportunity once more, Gran dispatched another thug by slashing a long gash down his arm and rushed Ritsuka's distracted opponents, throwing all his weight behind his knee as he drove into and through the baton wielder's back. Grabbing the now-fallen armament, he threw the extendable baton end over end, the whirling nightstick's end finding purchase in the chin of the second sniper.
"Gran! Thanks for the save!"
"No worries! Back to it!"
The two regrouped and began to turn their attention back to the thugs, but to their surprise, they found them strewn in disarray across the floor of the alley. There was a thump and the unconscious form of one of them was hurled into the side of the brick wall before landing. The woman turned her attention to her would-be saviours, the two boys shocked by the turn of events.
"Don't move." Tendrils of sand answered their confusion and snaked themselves up their legs, wrapping around their bodies like a harness. From there, more sand was fed up and through their bindings before completely encasing them. Caught completely, the woman pulled them with her as they ascended five storeys to settle on the rooftop.
"Gah?!" Caught off-guard, the two wriggled in their sandy prisons, but much to their chagrin, they were bound tightly by the rapidly shifting grains. 'What is this? Magecraft?!' Ritsuka's mind was sent whirling, but he ceased trying to fight the sand. Doing so would only tire him out, that much he could understand. Their bodies were brought about-face, the two of them pulled towards each other and down to eye level, only suspended a scant few inches from the ground.
The woman looked over both of them, her model-like face looking the definition of annoyance. "I'll keep this short, who are you, and who do you work for?" She spoke in Cantonese, and while Gran cocked his head in puzzlement, Ritsuka's tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar language to manage a reply.
"Wo ń gong guǎngdōng huà! (I don't speak Cantonese!)" He was sure his accent had been butchered, but he got the message across. The woman, likewise, quirked an eyebrow in mild surprise before switching tongues.
"You speak with a Higashi accent, is this better for you?" She asked, this time in Japanese. While now puzzled by the name she used, Ritsuka decided to go with it.
"Yes, thank you! We don't mean you any harm, we were just passing through when we saw the situation, please let us down!" He explained. The woman considered them for a second before sighing, dropping the two onto the rooftop. Gran collapsed to his knees, coughing up grains of sand, while Ritsuka stood on wobbly feet.
"Good samaritans, eh? How the hell did people like you get into this part of town?" She muttered. "I'm Lin Yühsia, all you need to know is that my name holds clout around these parts. Stick close for now and I'll get yo-"
In a split second, a wall of sand erected itself to block a volley of crossbow bolts, the projectiles sinking into the earthen barricade. Gran looked up in surprise as Ritsuka helped him to his feet. Scowling, Yühsia moved away from the edge of the building as the sand receded and flew back into her waiting grasp; they were promptly stored into vials and slotted into a belt hidden under her dress.
"We need to move, now!" This time she spoke in English so that Gran could understand. Not needing another warning, the two boys scrambled after her.
"Bad luck?" Ritsuka lamented, pounding pavement as he hopped over a ventilation pipe.
"A fever dream?!" Gran cried to the skies in an attempt to keep up. A crossbow bolt was his answer as it struck the floor next to him.
"How the fuck did this happen?!" Rushing across the rooftops of Lungmen, an underworld specialist could be seen running in front of two hapless boys, one a knight in mostly shining armour, the other a voyager of modern mystics. Not many would bare witness to the spectacle to come, but one thing was certain.
"WHAT KIND OF EVENT IS THIS?!"
Nobody would ever forget what happened next.
Heyo, Healthcare here. This has been a story that's been cooking for a while as a side-project, but it's good to be getting it out. No beta this time around, either. It's a solo headliner on this joint. It'll be around 3-4 chapters, with chapter 2 already done and coming next week. Be on the lookout for that!
I wanna thank Paras for giving me some info on the Proto-Bahamut raid, I'm a mega GBF noob, so him being on board for that was great. Even if I wrote that section a year ago. Really shows how messed up my workflow is, huh? Once again, a shoutout to the rest of the usual suspects, y'all know who you are.
Anyways, I hope this (half) crack fic is to your liking. I'll get my head down and keep working in the meantime. No rest for the wicked. After all, we'll be seeing a special someone next chapter…
Best wishes,
Healthcare.