The last thing we needed was a few blood sacrifices: mine, of course, was included in the recipe, but Archer had to take down some creatures flying by. Two bids, an owl and a seagull, and a bat. And we were ready.

Berserker had some sort of awkward resolve built up after our shopping experience, and he constantly nagged me about being ready and willing to do this.

I pat him and smile, wedging my eyes shut so I don't have to look at him through my lies.

"I'm fine. I'm perfectly safe with you guys, what could go wrong?"

Any number of things, really. I could almost die like that first go-round with what the boys have deemed is Assassin. I could end up a piece of wall-art. I could be one of those kids that's never remembered and quickly forgotten, one of those kids who walk out at night and never come home.

Lancer sees through my charade but doesn't interrupt me. He watches me intently with those dazzling eyes, but he too keeps closer than usual; an arm's length away nonetheless, but he lingers and stands idly longer than he usually does just out of sight.

Archer, on the other hand, is absolutely unchanged. I'm starting to think he wants me dead.

And before I know it, the doodle is out on the ground and the book is in my hand. Berserker stands beside me, tracing my palm in an intricate manner. "Mea anima est cum te. Nostra animae sunt cum vobis." He smiles, eyes closed behind his glasses. "We will succeed this evening - retain your faith, and all will be well."

I nod as I swallow the lump in my throat. I step closer to the ring, the delicate tracing of blood, and suddenly feel too small for this world.

I could walk away still. I could go home, I doubt these guys would stop me.

I stand at the brim, and I feel like I'm looking over the edge of the world.

You know thought, at this point… I really can't.

I hold Takao's journal in my left hand, gripping it fierce enough to tear the binding off. I stick out my right arm, stretching my fingers into the darkness before me.

May Fusicoccin and the bark of the oak be the binding

May the water and the scavenger work the root

May green be the flash of Death

May fall the wall against the rising winds

May the wings of the holy cardinals bid welcome through the pearly gates

Let the three-pronged fate from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

The eyes of the silence may return to sleep

And my flesh the entrance of your re-arrival,

Bid me the handle, Holy Grail, and grace me thy extended powers.

I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;

I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell.

Holy Grail Servant, heed my call!

He appears in a flourish, a magnificent storm of blinding light and glistening potential.

Within the instant I cast the spell, Archer threw himself in front of me. I raise an arm to block the radiance and squint at the dust kicked up by the swirling wind. A heat wave ushers upon our mortal skin – if a blind man just walked into this situation, I'd say he'd be overwhelmed by the sudden desert-like heat wave. You can almost see a chamomile flower bloom as thickets of dust fall in every direction; at the center of the flower, a man of gold.

As like the other three guys, a ravishing smile blossoms from his face.

"Well, commoners, who dared beckon me forth, the son of Ra?"

I'm on all fours on the ground, and simply in awe. Careful eyes from a life long ago peel open, maskera-esk wings dancing from the corners. From behind Archer, I can see he isn't dressed in any practical war armor (its not like I'm one to know battle clothes, but still, hear me out): wispy shawls of flax linen? Really. To every girl's delight he has no shirt, but rather solid bars of gold reaching around from his powerful spine and almost touching at his abs (but, oh, not quite!). A single white shawl drapes his shoulders and into a cape. Once I crawl into sitting position using Archer's leg to pull myself up, I can see a black top that protects his arms and neck. Archer growls something, and Lancer stands at the ready for a quick and sure fight. From his elbow to his fingers glisten solid gold, radiating directly from the sun itself.

Black linen twines loosely from his waist to his feet, kept in place, again, by solid plates of gold. Gemstones make his sandals, and an oversized necklace lands on his shoulders carelessly, topped off with a cross with a loop.

I'm astounded. For the first time in my life, I've conducted an actual spell – and not just any spell, but a summoning!?

ANNND, of all things, I summon a god?!

Gold eyes take in the darkening surrounding and us idiots around him. I'm absolutely useless like this, but I'm mesmerized: he's beautiful… how could a man like this be a warrior?

He whips a staff around, beckoning us back and on our knees like dogs. His olive skin glistens in perfection, his hair just a few shades darker.

He's perfect.

The staff beats the ground aggressively, his shimmering eyes sharpening fiercely.

"Heed me, commoner, your tone is unwarranted." Oh, I totally missed what Archer said.

"Ramses..." I whip my head to Dr. Jekyll, who's on the ground beside me. "Ramses the Second… oh yes, I should have known."

I'm amazed Berserker's the first to respond to this man. He folds up his glasses and sets them in his breast pocket as he stands up. He fixes his cuffs as we all wait – Archer and… our guest in rage, Lancer as stoic as ever, and me… well, I'm kinda freaked out. What kind of a position are we in, if Berserker's the first to speak?
And while we're at it, how does he know this guy? Dr. Jekyll's from the United Kingdom, and heaven knows where he's from.

Archer remains stiff-backed, like a cat with his hackles up. If anything else, I'd have thought Archer knew him – they're both dark-skinned and worn by the dry wind of time – and yet he stands here, ready to slaughter this man at the slightest of movement.

Ramses… I've heard of that one. Dr. Jekyll smiles and extends a hand to the newcomer.

"We have yet to meet, but we will be rivals one day soon in the Grail War to come." The desert king arches a bow, unconvinced. "And how is it you know my name, common street dog, while I do not yours?"
"An element of mine is the uncanny knowledge of space-time. It may be above you, but I wander the barricades of time itself when in the absence of space."

The gorgeous man frowns, brashly kicking up his chin to physically look down on the man. "You insist you contain a mind superior to my own? How dare you, you commoner!"
He tisks away from Berserker and gravitates towards me, spitting in my direction (heavens to god, thank Satan that loogy didn't land on Archer. He would have lost his shit in a second.) I hook my fingers into the laces of Archer's leggings, the straps where I imagine knives usually flank his body. He spreads his legs slightly, an act of reassurance to shield me from his eyes. But Rider kickers his chin up again and lowers his eyes to me.

"Speak girl, you are in the reason I am here. Who do you think you are, to summon the Son of Ra? How did you summon me? I know this Grail War and want nothing of it, so tell me how you pulled me here!"
"You were summoned to the physical world but days ago," Lancer's honey-combed voiced speaks up coolly, his body still coiled like a snake ready to strike. "Where have you been up to now?"
"I went home to my kingdom," Rider announces as if any other action is preposterous. "Egypt has fallen without me. I was just reawakening a dear pet when I was forcefully dragged here. So, speak girl! What did you drag me to this wretched land? Speak!"

Okay, deep breathes. If I don't assert myself here and now, he'll never respect me, nor will the guys.

I use Archer to pull myself up, stepping slightly away from him as I look stupidly at the Egyptian king.

"You… you've been dead for… hundreds of years. You're a heroic spirit according to the… the Grail. A-a-as a king, your duty is to protect your people. yyyyouuu-"

"My duty?" the man laughs, a sparkling roar. "Ignorant commoner, you clearly do not recognize the situation you are in. You stand before Ramses the Second, Son of Ra, the greatest king to ever have lived! You summoned me indeed, but you know not the glory before you." He turns away from me and inspects his fingernails. His gold bangles glisten violently. "Perhaps you should educate yourself of your class and place in this world. I am doing a great dishonor to my father by but speaking to you, you lowly commoner, let alone, a woman! No, you are not even that!"
"Enough," hisses Lancer. "You may not dishonor this young maiden in my presence. Begon with you, presumed decently. Fair Hashimoto, heed him no mind." He must have seen how visible shaken I was; my fists, clenched, my jaw tight, my face beat red.

Its… its just like Dad. How I'm not going to go anywhere. How I'm going to become the real runt of the family. To this guy, I'm nothing more than a roach waiting to be squished underfoot, and apparently, that's all I'll ever be good for. I mean, even Hiro graduated from high school. Maybe these guys are all right. They're dicks, but they're right.

People… people like me never amount to anything.

But he's not done.

"Oh, poor slave-skinned girl! Did I strike a nerve? Well, address me if you dare claim the courage. You shall reference me as Ozymandias, King of Kings. Or shall you not? Bear mind girl, you stand far short from reguardable. You-"

"Enough!"

Lancer's brow rises. Berserker recoils at the intensity. And for once, Rider's arrogance is silenced.

I look left, just as surprised as everyone else.

"You are no higher than her, so stop pretending to be. You're a reanimated spirit anchored to this world just like the rest of us. Spitting some illusions from a life you lived thousands of years ago will gain nothing. So, shut up you fool, and listen."
A wave of relief flushes over me. Archer may not be noble, but he's reliable.

I swallow the lump in my throat in the short silence that followed and try again.

"I… I'm willing to respect you. Really, I am. But this situation calls for a lot more than a gang of historic storybook characters. Ozy-mandias, right?" He watches me intently, curiously, angrily. ""I'm asking you to help us. The Holy Grail has chained you to the real world, in a day and age where you're not much more than a name kids are forced to learn in school. Your family and dynasty is long gone. Please, someone's corrupting the Grail, and from what we can tell, you're up for potentially being manipulated by whoever's pulling the strings here."
"You jest, insisting I would be swayed by some… common mongrel?"
"No! No… i… i… I just-" I look at my crowd. Berserker's very intimidated by the situation. Lancer's gorgeous face is tight with rage. Archer is unchanged, waiting patiently for my call to action.

I take a deep breath and clasp my hands tightly together.

"We… we're trying to stop this madman before more people die. My brother died trying to stop him. Some seventy-something innocent people have been killed. And these are people you don't know or care about, but the Grail has rooted you here as a Heroic Spirit. You have the opportunity to be just that again." He opens his mouth – I'm assuming he has an insult waiting in ready for me, but I push on. "I don't expect you to genuinely care, nor do I expect you to get your hands dirty with commoner stuff like this, but you have the opportunity to remind the world of what a leader you were." I heave a heavy breath and keep going. "If you don't want to help us, I wont stand in your way. However, if you oppose us?" I wave a hand over my gaggle of misfits. "I can't say they'll easily forgive you."

His sharp eyes silently pull me apart. He could step forward and kill me without hesitation, if he really wanted to, despite my bodyguards.

I'm sure the thought crosses his mind, but as I stare boldly back at him, he tilts his head slightly and smiles.

"Commoner girl, I am pleased to have been summoned by the likes of you above the rest of this world's present population. Although you lack in all forms of beauty and grace-" my ears burn in embarrassment, "-you are in no means shy of my beloved's wry heart. I am glad to see some still retain proper beauty of character."
He peeks at each of the men gathered in the darkness. "However, I have no intention of soiling my hands with this nonsense. If your emerald dog will bid me access, I will take my leave without chase – a peaceful manner fit for only a loving king."

Lancer's orange eyes flicker over with anticipation, but I hold out a tentative hand to Ireland's knight. "Lancer, please. We have no grudge with him."

"He might go to the enemy," the man reasons, black hair caught reflecting the golden king's violent light. "And even if he does not, anyone opposed to joining our unified force is by definition against us." Archer shakes his head in disagreement as Berserker walks over to stand beside me. "He wont, will you?" I reaffirm, glancing at the son of Ra. He says nothing but continues to watch me intently. They're cat eyes, that's it. Or the monster in the alleyway that we all fear in the dead of night. Either way, his eyes pierce my mortal body – not aggressively, but… fondly. Then, he reassesses the situation with a quick 360* spin on his hell, smiles fully, and bids us farewell.

"I have no plan to partake in your holy war, but I sincerely wish the Gods smile down upon you in your course of action." His ravishing, cocky smile once more absorbs the light around him. "Farewell, commoners. I pray to my father that you look back on this event as one of the greatest of your measly lives." He nods to me, making me flinch and instinctively grab Archer, and he twirls the cane-staff in his right hand.

From above explodes a radiance only comparable to his own; I'd say it's a UFO, but Rider looks up, leaps, and seats himself out of my line of vision.

In an instant he is gone.

We're all stunned by the traumatic ten minutes. Berserker coughs and peels off his glasses in the uncomfortable silence.

"Well, that could have been worse."

I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding in and stagger backwards a step. The men watch me as I collect myself, hand clenching my shirt for self-reassurance. My eyes are locked on the ground as I swell with emotions.

I… I can't believe that just happened. I can feel my pulse bleeding into my line of vision; the fading light swirls around me. With each heartbeat the colors pound into my line of vision. I'm forced to take in sharp breathes through my mouth… my lungs just aren't big enough right now to contain the air in me.

"Miss Hashimoto?"

"That… was really cool." I fall forwards and catch myself on my words, tripping on the sounds as a delusional state settles over me.
Someone grabs me by both arms and falls beside me as I come to my knees. The hands are small and so, so soft… it must be Berserker. "Her adrenaline from the situation must be wearing off - this is the side-effects of the incantation. Breathe my dear, just breathe through it. We have opened several circuits in your body simultaneously; you will feel overwhelmed f'r a short time longer. Just breath my dear, just breathe."

"What circuits did the incantation open?" It's the commanding voice of Archer, somewhere… somewhere behind me.

"I'd assume all of them, if not most of them. That is how it should properly impact a mage. Pardon, but I thought she was a mage?!"
"Hardly." A firm hand caresses my back, and I jump at the touch. I'm yakking something, something that isn't in my lungs. My eyes are still pounding furiously against my skull, blood roaring in my ears.

This… is an odd sensation… perhaps I'm…. dying.

"She's going into cardiac arrest."

"Well, do something!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

If I'm lucky… maybe my head will explode. That… that would feel… pretty nice right about now. If not my head, maybe my heart will burst from my ribs.

"Hold on, got it."

Sheer-cold, icey-hot knives burn into my body, tracing my veins from my heart to my brain. I can feel it seeping into my blood as a cooling reagent as my spine snaps straight against my will.

"Jj-j-j-jeezus!" I cough, yakking out of control, body heaving in the effort. God, my eyes sting! I rub my eyes furiously until someone forcefully pulls my hands away by the wrists. "Stop that, your eyes are fine. Look at me."

God, they burn!

I open gingerly, oxygen flooding them like a broken dam. Lo and behold, the first thing I see drives me mad with emotions; like a newborn fawn, my eyes are locked with my protector's.

He's smiling a wry, fox-like smile.

His eyes are really, really something else up close, too.

"Its safe to assume the spell worked." He steps back so Lancer can lean into me, his handsome face squinting slightly. In an instant his face drops as he heaves a sigh, hair falling in exaggeration. "You have me worried, Miss Hashimoto." He pushes himself up and sits upright on his heels, lance slung over his back as if he was playing off not being as worried as he was. Nah, you can't fool me… I could see it in your face.

I smile, suddenly aware of the sweat dripping down my face. I reach to rub my cheek and recognize the pain throbbing away in my cranium. "Hey, that was cool. It worked, though, right?"

"Defiantly. You should see your eyes."

Berserker reacts by wrapping around and leaning in too close to my face, his nose almost touching mine. His glasses are on too, adding to the ridiculousness of his soft face. The doctor nods in assertion. "Yes, we have achieved our goal."

"Wait, what wrong with my eyes?" I turn to look at Archer, simultaneously pushing Berserker away.

"They're different. More indigo now."
"Indigo?!"
"From your circuits. It must be your color."

Berserker sits back on his bum, the look of a startled puppy draped over his long, intrigued face. Lancer smiles down at the smaller man, shoulders slouching in relief.

I fall backwards, suddenly free enough to smile. Suddenly free enough to giggle, suddenly free enough to laugh.

I curl up on the ground, laughing like an idiot. It was a brief break in time and I'm sure the world would overlook it, but it felt so… blissful.

I stood up for myself… against a goddamned god. WHO DOES THAT?

Who gets into situations like this? Who gets tangled up with such… with such idiots? With such gentlemen? With such hotties?

I sit up, propped up by my hands against the cold ground behind me. Now everyone looks confused.

"Its like you said, it could'ov been worse!"

"You almost died!" Does it matter who that exclamation came from?
"Totally! I've never felt so alive!" I jump to my feet before teetering back over. Archer loyally catches me by the shoulders and eyeballs me like I'm a fool. "You're drained, and it's late. There's nothing more we can do, we should rest before the opportunity escapes us." I nod and look everyone over - they would probably deny it, but they all look exhausted. "Fair enough," I yawn, my brain finally catching up to my body. "But we need to plan for tomorrow."
"Sleep first, plan later."

"Agreed," Lancer rubs his brow. "We will cross that bridge when we get there."

I turn to Berserker. "Dr.? Thoughts?"

He blushes slightly and raises his hands in defense. "Ai, I am honored thy would consider my opinion here, but... I lack one." He beams childishly and scratches his head. "IF I may request, may I look at your brother's journal once more? I will ponder our options for tomorrow until... eh, until rest falls upon me as well."
"I don't care. Its all yours." I bend over to pick it up from its place on the ground beside me, realizing luminescent indigo lightening bolts tracing my veins in the hand I used to cast the spell. I smile again as I walk the moleskin over to him.

"Thank you, Dr. Jekyll. We couldn't have done this without you."
"We would not ha-"
"Shut up, Archer." I hiss, cutting him off. Berserker smiles again as he takes the book from me, refusing to look me in the eye. "Nay, thank you. Now we are one step closer to ending this nightmare. I may yet win the Holy Grail another day."

I don't know how to respond, so I plant my hands on my hips and look up at the bleak sky. For the first time, I feel... hope for tomorrow. I cant say how long its been since I've felt like this.
It feels... great.

.

.

.

The Rider class is my favorite. Prolly 'cause I'm an equestrian, but you can't deny the dynamic array of legends that take up the Rider mantle during the Holy Grail Wars.

This is Ramses II. A little Gilgamesh-y, huh? A bit of a prick, but he has a right to be – he was the king of a leading force during his time. Too bad he's still got his head wrapped around the past.

I hope he realizes he's a few hundred years out of place.