Valentines: VI

It was nearly the day she had been dreading and there had been very little happening that she was aware of.

No, that wasn't right.

There were things happening that she was aware of, but she had not ventured beyond her office to look closer into them out of fear of being pulled in. Fortunately she had built up enough of a repertoire with some of the other Servants to be at least amenable to keeping her informed of what was happening in Chaldea itself.

Though she wasn't sure if that made her pathetic or not.

She did not wish to think too heavily upon it.

"Nahr Alma joined the group in charge of cooking the food."

Olga immediately went on alert when the name was dropped, she tensed and narrowed her eyes. Not at the Servant, but at the name that they have.

"Precautions?"

"He is still being watched over by at least several capable Servants." A beat, d'Eon adjusted their posture before speaking further. "But their attention stands divided…they have also garnered the aid of Sulyvahn as well."

Olga felt as though she was going to suffer whiplash from all of the different names being dropped here. Not one, but two of the high profile troublemakers had been thrown into the mix in a single situation? She was tempted to go down there now and get them to part before whatever conflict boiled over.

She didn't need to be a genius to know that putting an ardent God hater in the same room as the God of Psychopaths was a bad idea.

"And where is your Master in all of this?"

D'Eon rolled their lips and slowly shook their head. "I am unaware of that at this time. I could look further into the matter if you wish, but the last sighting I had with him was several days ago. He had been made aware by interested parties that there was going to be a Valentines dance…and that was the last they saw of him."

He ran away?

He wasn't allowed to do that!

A sputter escaped her, opening and closing her mouth before her jaws snapped shut with a loud click. Her arms folded over her chest and her gaze hardened. Under the withering glare, all d'Eon did was offer a faint smile. "I am certain he is well. I was told that it was him who ordered additional safeguards put in place to protect Servants from Nahr Alma and Sulyvahn, given he was aware of their volatile personalities."

Olga felt herself relax a little.

Alright, so he was still paying attention from a distance, at least.

Wait…

Her eyes closed and she brought a hand up to cover her face.

"...He's keeping his distance to not spoil any surprises, isn't he?"

"...I cannot presume to know Masters intentions." D'Eon replied slowly, as Olga lowered her hand she was treated to the sight of the Saber wearing a wry smile. "But that does seem the likely explanation, yes. I believe he has Cursed Arm giving him regular reports as to the happenings."

It wasn't ideal…but he was doing something, at least.

Fine, she could tolerate this.

"...Is there anything else that I should be aware of?"

D'Eon remained silent for a moment, then spoke. "Only that you should be expecting a visit from her majesty in the coming day. She will be inviting you to the dance and she desperately hopes that you will attend…but if you have work, I could pass along a message that you would be unable to tear yourself away from pressing matters."

They were considerate, at least.

Olga closed her eyes briefly, giving a slow shake of the head before opening them and replying. "I shall decide upon an answer when she happens upon me. Until then, leave it ambiguous."

A nod of the head and no further questions, the Saber turned and departed back down the hall.

Olga slumped her shoulders, turning around and retreating into her office once again.

"You did not deny them."

The words were quiet, but their content made her jolt. If only a little.

Turning to the speaker, she mustered up the best glare she could manage, but it was an empty thing that barely lasted a few seconds. Replaced with exasperation and a shake of the head. Olga turned and walked back towards her desk, moving around it and slumping down into her seat. Eyes fixed straight ahead and towards the closed door.

The lingering gaze of the Valkyrie remained upon her.

"What, exactly, are you looking for as an answer here?"

The words came out curt, her eyes flickered onto the woman and narrowed. She wasn't even sure what business it was of the Lancer whether Olga did or did not attend a dance. Unless the woman just wanted the office all to themselves, but there were plenty of other locations she could hide in.

Brynhildr said nothing for a few moments, Olga initially started to think the woman would say nothing at all and merely leave it as some statement she had made in the moment.

"I was just asking." The Lancer replied slowly, voice as gentle as ever. "So that when she arrives, you can give your answer with confidence."

"I can handle dealing with her fine." Her voice was clipped, the Lancer kept her gaze for a few moments before dipping her head and going silent.

Olga gave out a single internal scoff, lowering her eyes back to the table and folding her arms over her chest.

Giving an answer in confidence? She knew exactly how to do something like that.

But it was hardly as though she could really afford to use her time as frivolously as some. If Ritsuka wanted to go out and dance with the Servants, then he was entitled to do that so long as it did not interfere with his work. Much the same applied to the staff, provided the breaks were short…they could enjoy themselves as they wished.

Just as long as they were ready to deploy at a moment's notice, there would be no problems.

Did that mean she could sit there and waste her time with them?

The argument ran hollow when she considered her previous outings.

A theme park in which she debased herself like a fool.

And even more recently with that madness involving the Servant who claimed to be from some distant future. The entire ordeal she was trying very hard not to think about, just so she could avoid any headaches.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back into her chair.

She could do nothing more than wait at this point.


"You'd be really be hard pressed to find anyone better at cutting than me."

Martha looked at him with complete incredulity, brows pinched and then a swift scoff letting itself loose from her throat. "If you think, for even a moment, that I am handing you a knife, then you are being optimistic. Quite frankly, your presence here is disconcerting enough already, especially as you have made it clear where your inclinations lie."

The Divine Spirit merely sent her a mocking smile, bringing up his hands and holding them in mock surrender.

"I could just as easily pull out my scythe, and really…you think I would need a kitchen knife to kill someone? I'm just doing my best for the pack. You know? Being a good little worker ant and doing all I can for the good of the hive. Honest."

Martha narrowed her eyes further.

Alma rolled his own and dropped his arms, nodding past them towards the direction of the makeshift kitchen they had set up in the room. "And he is considered so trustworthy for all of you? I'm a little bit wounded by all that, if I'm being honest."

She knew what he was talking about.

And she was hardly pleased with the presence of the other one either.

"Perhaps because I am above the inclinations of a rabid beast, blood God." The dry voice echoed across the room, "But I suppose not all could be as civilised as myself."

Martha felt her expression sour a bit more.

It wasn't something she was wholly used to, losing her temper like this, but something about Sulyvahn made it very difficult for her to actually rain herself in. Perhaps it was because of his title or the way he had used his faith for the sole purpose of corruption and slaughter. Or the fact he still wore the title of Pontiff as some mocking title to further insult those he had slain further.

Or it was his personality, which was utterly depraved.

She could not decide on one reason alone in the short time she had known him, and he had made his own feelings clear to her.

At least she had been warned by Jeanne as to what she should expect from the man.

Alma made a small noise and shrugged his shoulders. "Civilisation is whatever the people decide it is. Besides, your hatred of me is so one-sided. I thought it was quite amusing the way that you used the faith and led the people to the slaughter. Quite nice, they really should have paid better attention, shouldn't they?"

"I am not going to stand here and let you praise butchery." Martha interrupted before either one of them could speak further.

Turning her body, she sent a sharp look between the pair of them.

"Get him by the ham."

She paused, then turned to the voice.

Jeanne glanced up and rolled her lips. "I can watch him make sandwiches and it keeps him under eye."

Alma beamed like a child, Martha felt a twitch form across her brow before she closed her eyes and dropped her head.

"...Very well then."

"I'm curious myself as to how good one of your ilk could be at carving flesh." Sauntering off, the Divine Spirit gave a light chuckle. "Because I wasn't initially sure how much experience you'd have, then I find out you're quite the big shot for being a war leader. I'm so impressed, how many did you kill?"

Martha was tempted to march across the room and drag him back.

But she had her own individuals to watch over.

She turned her body and moved towards the kitchen once more, then folded her arms and looked down at the work of the Caster.

"Why are you here?"

"Because Gwyndolin will be able to recognise my food." Sulyvahn replied without even a moment of hesitation. "And when he does, he will understand that I played a role in this little gathering that he is going to be involved with. It will vex him."

His head raised, a featureless gaze rested upon her, then a grunt of annoyance.

"But I will not be attending. I have better uses of my time."

Martha thinned her lips. "And those better uses of your time involve purposefully annoying other Servants in Chaldea?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed. "This is supposed to be a friendly gathering. If you are just here to start trouble, then you can leave right now. Because I will not put up with your brand of-"

"My brand?" He repeated with a mocking sneer in his words. "Is that how it works for you? I see. Peace and union between peers until it comes to someone you do not enjoy the company of, then you cast them to the wayside and leave them alone in the cold and the dark. Truly, a loving faith you adhere to."

"Do not twist my words-"

"I am not twisting them, I am speaking honestly." He straightened, moving away from the cutting board. "Something you are not doing. I am here to offer my aid and facilitate this pointless gathering. Despite my personal reservations about it, I am here contributing to the greater good and all you can do is complain because I have intentions that are personal?"

"Your intentions are to cause discord-"

"My intentions are to make food." He replied smoothly. "Gwyndolin will be the one to cause discord."

"A distinction without a difference." Leaning forwards, her folded arms came undone. "You are well aware of what your effect will be. Therefore, you are just here to cause problems-"

"Then cast me out." Sulyvahn replied, cutting her short and giving her the strong impression he was grinning. "Go on. Demonstrate the meaning of Valentine's day by throwing me from the room. Show Chaldea that you understand the day about bonds as you ostracise me from my peers for the simple crime of volunteering to help."

"Hmph." A grunt, his shoulders dropped and he returned to his work. "Such kindness. It burns when twisted against you, doesn't it?"

Martha glared, but then something in his words caught her.

Her brows furrowed a little.

…It sounded personal.

No, she was not going to press.

Instead she stepped backwards and kept watch over him.

Or better yet…

Stepping around the table, she moved to his side and then caught some of the equipment herself. Already moving through the process of peeling vegetables.

Sulyvahn stiffened. "What are you-"

"You were preaching all about the joining of hands." She replied with a smile that came rather easily to her. "I am merely putting those words into practice. I have quite a bit of experience in a kitchen making small meals, I am certain that I will be able to rend some capable assistance upon you."

She did not need to look to know he was glaring down at her.

But she did not truly mind that.

It was not as though she was being petty, this way she would mitigate whatever harm Sulyvahn was trying to do.

If he really did care about the day and not just spiteing Gwyndolin, then he would not mind the help in the least.

And if he departed?

Well, that was none of her business.

That would be his choice.

Martha hummed under her breath as the burning glare lingered on the side of her head, with an irritated growl, Sulyvahn returned to work.

He was quite annoyed, it seemed.

But he was not gone, though she doubted it was out of the goodness of his heart. Perhaps because he was a perfectionist and now that he had started, he wanted to see it finished. That was the impression he gave.

Or he didn't want to admit she chased him off.

Well, she wasn't going to let him chase her off either.


It was clear that some of them had gotten off track as they made the decorations.

Some had actually made a start on some of the heart shaped petal creations, and others had been making crowns and bracelets.

Flann did not have the same measure of experience as some of them - he was never one for going down and personally dealing with this manner of things - but it would have been poor form if other Kings and Queens were getting involved and he was on the sidelines thinking that he was above such actions.

True, he was God and they were man, but it was the principle.

And it was an argument that held little weight when he knew the sort of action Nudd would be getting up to. Already he could picture the man cutting food into a pot or skinning some manner of game.

So he contributed in his own way.

"Umu! Very impressive!"

"You expected less of me?" He spoke purely on reflex, turning his head from the sculpture and towards the speaker. Stopping for a moment to regard the small blonde ruler, then he turned back and resumed his work. "Any ruler with an ounce of skill could put their mind to any task and perform beyond their peers."

A comfortable lie.

He had never done this before and was certain he was fumbling his way into success somehow.

Whether through intervention or something else, his efforts to replicate the tower of Heide from nothing more than 'paper mache' as they called it, were somehow succeeding. True, he had aided in the planning but he had not partaken in the construction.

Still, he had woken up and stared at that tower every morning for centuries.

He doubted he would ever be able to close his eyes and not see it.

"Familiar indeed…Umu! The tower made in that theme park!"

He paused and suppressed a twitch, then lowered his hands and turned back to face the woman. Looking down at her and her oblivious face, still leaning past him and scanning it up and down. Nodding along in approval.

"...It is, yes."

"Understandable." The woman replied without missing a beat. "One should always love their homeland. Umu! Though I declare Rome the greatest of romance, I shall admit that your efforts have touched my heart as well. I can see the familiarity in your movements. As an artist myself-"

He found that claim dubious at best.

"-I can recognise another. Even if not in the same craft. Am I to assume that you intended to replace the burning flame at the summit with a heart?"

The thought had not even crossed his mind.

Unsure what he was supposed to say, he instead responded slowly. "I had several ideas that could be implemented."

Then he frowned.

"And on the topic of implementation, should you not be busying yourself with your own works? You were adamant about the introduction of those flower bracelets, do not tell me now that you have grown bored of your own idea."

Nero looked stricken. "Wha-?! Of course not! I have merely been resting myself! We have dozens of the bracelets already prepared. I was merely observing the work of the others and seeing how far we have progressed. It goes well, does it not?"

A wave of the hand, she gestured towards a direction. "Even the Nameless God over there is hard at work."

The topic of conversation turned sour.

Flann kept his face composed as best he could, but he was certain that some of his distate must have leaked out from him. Not that the woman noticed beyond a light flinch, then glancing around and frowning.

"Did someone raise the temperature?" She asked aloud.

"You imagine it." His emotions were stamped down, he did not turn his head to know that the Firstborn was looking towards him, likely a result of the comment. The feeling lasted a good few seconds then vanished.

Nero put on a puzzled frown for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and seemingly accepted his answer.

Turning around, she moved back to the direction she had come from.

Flann hummed and watched her leave, then returned to his paper mache.

He stared at the summit for a couple of seconds, then placed his hands on his hips and pulled his mind back to the words of the Emperor. His eyes lingered on it for a moment, longer, then he pulled his lips into a straight line.

A heart shape.

…A heart shaped flame, perhaps?

He could endure such a thing.


Faraam watched Flann seemingly come to some sort of decision, then ignored the flame God entirely. Pushing another hole through the petal and looping the string through it. Dragging it along and repeating the process another dozen or so times before the loose fitting bracelet was created.

With a small toss, he added it unto the pile.

He paused as he moved to the next one, hearing a faint humming tune and slowly turned his head to the origin. He found himself looking across to the young woman, wide brimmed hat and pitch black dark robes. The witch of the woodlands, whose name eluded him. She was humming to herself, perhaps without even realising, as she continued her work.

Compared to his own efforts, she was superior.

He understood why, as she had been from the woodlands she would have more experience in this.

"Declaration: Caster; Beatrice, has demonstrated considerable skill."

A deep echoing voice from the pale armoured construct.

"Request: This Fuselage requires instruction."

The girl jolted upwards as though shocked by a small miracle, Faraam watched with thin amusement as her head whipped upwards and realised that not only was Tametomo looking at her, but he was as well. Instantly she froze up and whatever blood was in her face fled rapidly.

Within moments, she was as pale as the metal plating of the Archer.

"W-well, I…uh…that…uhm…" Her eyes darted down to the ruined pile of petals which lay before the Archer.

It was more like a casual butchery of flowery.

Suddenly, Faraam felt better about his own efforts.

Meagre as they were, this was never where his proficiency lay.

"A-alright…I can…uhm…" The woman fidgeted further, then shuffled and turned herself to grant the Archer a better view of what she was doing. Reaching out a bit further with her hands and, with a voice still stuttering, she spoke out. "J-just watch what I'm doing. I would probably make a bad explanation for you."

Tametomo peered down at her, then spoke. "This condition is acceptable."

And leaned forwards, eyes aglow with focus.

Faraam silently turned himself away and resumed his own slow progress.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Hmm?"

He noticed their arrival, peering across to the other man who had joined them. Tanned skinned and emerald green armour, he recognised them as another of the Archers. Though he directed a question to him, the focus of the man lay upon the witch and the construct. A faint, approving, smile on his lips before diverting his attention.

"That would depend upon the question." Faraam replied quietly, looking down at the flower petals he was punching small holes through. "Though I am to imagine it relates to my presence here at all?"

The man gave a wry smile. "Something like that…but I can normally tell how people are, at least a bit. Not that I'm anything like some of the folks around Chaldea, mind you."

Briefly pausing, Arash looked up at him. "You've got no intention of showing up to the party, do you?"

"The keen eyes of an archer." Faraam replied, then nodded his head. "And you are quite correct. This is hardly the sort of gathering I would have ever been found in. Not even during my time in Forossa did I attend the public spectacles, despite how popular they were at points…Let this dance be for those who can appreciate such things. It has no place for one such as myself."

Arash hummed and nodded his head up and down. "I can understand that, I suppose. Still, you have to admit that it's always good for warriors to rest up and clear their minds. Sometimes it's best for them to remember what exactly they are fighting for in the first place."

Faraam stopped moving for a moment.

…He did not even know why he was fighting.

It had all seemed so simple when he answered the summoning, he had expected it to be a trivial affair from then onwards.

…And he had been met with attacks he could not counter, from directions he could not predict.

But perhaps none more so than Valentine's day.

A cruel coincidence, he supposed.

"...Your words hold weight, but you should save them for those whose minds you can change, bowman." Flickering his eyes up, he met the gaze of the human and softened it slightly. "But I am sure you have realised this already, every hunter knows when the prey stands beyond his range, do they not?"

Arash rolled his lips and nodded his head. "I suppose they do. Changing your mind wasn't something I was aiming for…not really. Just wanted to be sure…Master will probably understand as well."

"...Sometimes I forget that he is a mere boy." Faraam muttered, then rolled his jaw. "But I have known those younger than him with a dozen names already carved into their blades. Put into the earth by their very actions."

A low hum, the Archer frowned. "I can't say I disagree with that…but times have changed since the days of my kingdom. I can say it's a bit for the better as well. I'd rather not think about all the young men…to be honest, I would much rather they all have the chance to do this sort of thing more often."

Faraam inclined a brow. "But not you?"

"...Someone has to keep the peace." He replied with a shrug. "It's what I'm good at. What I've always been good at…what is it that people say nowadays? It's always good to take time to stop and smell the roses. I can go back to fighting when people need me to…but I'll take the chance to see the world a little bit more."

"Hmm. I did not indulge myself in such things." He replied.

A lie.

He did.

…Once.

"A shame. Sounds like you missed out…but then again, I guess Godly duties would take up a bit more of your time, huh?"

"...Something like that." He found himself muttering in reply.

A brief pause, then he held up the latest bracelet and looked it over.

"...I believe I might be improving."

Arash looked at it for a second or two, then smiled. "I'd say so, yeah."


His hand closed to a fist.

Another failure was discarded and he returned to work as though nothing had happened.

Several days straight of work and his progress had been there, but it had been below what he had wished for. Especially if his hope had been to make the time for anyone else, but at current that was appearing to be little more than a fantasy.

The door hissed and opened, Da Vinci had stepped out earlier for something.

But it was not her who entered the room.

"So this is where you have been hiding, beast?"

Ash did not turn to the voice, instead he hummed in response.

The lack of an answer did little to irritate the new arrival, instead they hummed in turn and paced into the room. Ash could hear the thud of their armoured feet upon the ground and the clank of their armour. The shine of gold crossed the corner of his vision, but he dared not pull his eyes away from the craft before him.

The movements continued for several seconds, then the shape came to a stop, he could feel the weighted look pressing upon himself.

A measuring gaze, lingering upon himself and then to his completed works.

Only when it was upon them - only when the man moved towards his finished items - that Ash raised his head and looked towards the golden haired man. His expression blank, but his eyes promising action if anything befell what he had created.

A smirk and a twinkle of amusement shone in the crimson gaze of the Demi-God.

With arms folded over, Gilgamesh once more looked to him with the same amusement he had shown when they first met one another. Or rather, when they had first met in the halls of Chaldea.

"Did you come here for a reason?"

Gilgamesh scoffed. "Surely you are not so simple as to ask questions to which you already know the answer to?"

Ash grunted. "Clarification would be preferred. But I can see now why you came. Am I to be expecting some mocking comment soon?"

"As if I would waste my breath on one who could not heed the wisdom of my words." A wave of the hand, the gaze turned dismissive and moved from him towards the finished ceramic cups. They still needed to be painted and have their designs finished, but they were perfect.

Structurally perfect, at least.

Da Vinci had told him as such.

Seven hundred and five failures it had taken to make three of them.

And he had not even started upon the kettle yet.

Gilgamesh looked upon the tea set, his expression betrayed nothing of his thoughts and feelings. Then he glanced back towards Ash and frowned. "I am unsure whether to be insulted or amused by this latest effort. Hollow gestures and nought else from you…I would call it an insult to true craftsmen, but you made these with your own two hands."

Closing his eyes, the man took in a deep breath. "Yet that is worth noting, I suppose. Hmph. I shall allow the existence of these…things. At the very least, even hollow as this gesture might be, there is more passion than in anything crafted by the faker."

Turning his body, Gilgamesh paced towards the door and left just as suddenly as he had arrived.

Ash watched him depart, then slowly turned his head to stare at the cups.

Was there a problem?

It certainly sounded as though there was, but he could not understand where the issue lay.

His brows tightened, his lips drawn thin.

A faint noise earned his attention, eyes turning to the door as a small shape pattered into the room. Light footsteps and shiny white fur. The distinct shape of Fou entered the room, the door having opened for the animal, and paced across, leaping upon the table with a single bounding push off the ground.

He and Ash made eye contact with one another.

Neither moved once settled, him with his arms rested on his lap and Fou on his hind quarters, head tilted and eyes filled with an intellect unseen.

"...I think I am missing something important."

He was unsure what compelled him to speak, further confusion as to whether the animal would even understand. But he spoke to the animal.

"I do not see where the mistake was, gifts are expected and yet he calls them hollow. What does that even mean, to call a gift hollow? There is meaning in that it is a gift…I do not understand and I am unsure why."

His eyes turned away, then lowered themselves.

It was a gift.

And yet with a few sentences, Gilgamesh had introduced doubt where none had existed before.

"Do you think it is wrong?"

"...Fou."

He wasn't sure why he asked, and the answer he got was exactly the one he expected. With a mewl, Fou lowered themselves into a sitting position, legs crossed over, and then rested their chin on their feet. Eyes drooping closed and soon came the small snores of the creature across the room.

Ash thinned his lips and exhaled, turning away and looking back to his work.

The confusion remained.

He pushed it down and continued his efforts, whether it was wrong or not, he had gone through so much effort that to abandon it now would be wasteful. He was committed, but now he was left with a deep foreboding.

If he had made a mistake, then what was the purpose of the gift?

It was something he made and gave to someone.

That was right.

It was valentines day.

He was supposed to give something to someone, it was expected, so what was the problem? He was doing what he was supposed to do.

He didn't understand.

His head twitched as he pushed thoughts into the mental link.

'Ritsuka. Can you come to Da Vinci's workshop? I wish to speak with you about something.'

There was a noticeable pause, he knew the message had been received but he felt the flash of hesitation through the link.

At last, Ritsuka replied.

'Alright, I'll be there soon as I can.'

He accepted the answer and slowed his work, doing nothing until he could come to a conclusion on what the problem was.


Ritsuka had been slightly puzzled when Ash had called out to him - and a bit preoccupied - but with a few words to Medea and a small apology, the woman let him leave with the expectation that he would return soon.

If there was one thing he knew about, it was that some of the Servants were pretty predictable.

There was definitely going to be a Valentines day dance and he was sure as heck not going to miss out on the chance.

But that was neither here nor there.

If Ash wanted him for something, then he was going to see what it was that was troubling him.

Entering the workshop, Ritsuka immediately took notice of the table beside Ash. His eyes widened and a smile formed on his lips. Closing the distance and leaning over, hands on his hips.

Sweeping his gaze over the assembled series of cups, he marveled at them and how well put together they all were.

They might have looked simple, but Ritsuka knew about what Ash had been doing and how long the Avenger had been here. So he knew full well that the blonde had been spending all of his time getting them to look this good. Something like that deserved to be complimented because it was determination which Ritsuka wasn't sure he could match.

"These are coming along really great, Ash." He began with, nodding his head to them. "I'm being serious here and-ah, so that's where Fou is."

He took notice of the curled up white ball of fur further along the table, his eyes rolled and his lips pulled into a larger smile.

Sometimes he never even noticed the small animal.

Fou was certainly skilled and disappearing and reappearing.

Turning his eyes back to Ash, he straightened himself. "So what is there that you need?"

"...Gilgamesh stopped by earlier. I am puzzled by his words."

And with that, Ritsuka felt something ball up into a knot inside his gut. A sinking feeling started to form in the back of his head, but he did not let himself lose any hope yet. Instead he nodded his head and hummed.

"I'm going to assume he said something that's troubling."

"I would not call it troubling." Said Ash, face blank. "Just puzzling. I do not understand where his problem lay."

"Alright…why don't you tell me what he said?"

"He called my work a hollow gesture and that it bordered an insult to true craftsman."

That was…better and worse than what Ritsuka had been expecting, but still not great.

"What did he mean when he called them hollow gestures?"

Ritsuka turned around, then paced towards an empty stool, pulling it across and sitting himself down on it.

"...I can't even begin to understand what he's thinking." He admitted with a shrug of the shoulders. "But I haven't much spoken with him, so that's my fault. I'll need to be sure to do so later but with everything that's going on…and he doesn't strike me as the sort to engage in a conversation with me about that sort of thing…"

Ash remained stone faced.

Ritsuka winced. "Right, rambling."

Scratching the back of his neck, he rolled his jaw from side to side.

"...Calling it a hollow gesture…that would imply that you aren't really putting thought into the gesture? But that's not really true though. I know you are so I don't get what he means."

Ash's words left him confused now, his mind scrambling to understand just what Gilgamesh had meant.

Across from him, the blonde watched silently, eyes drifting between himself and the ceramic cups that he still needed to finish making and painting. It seemed as though he was going to wait for an answer before he continued, but Ritsuka wasn't sure if there was anything that he could say.

He was lacking an answer himself.

"I am doing it because it is right."

Once more, the cold explanation. The certainty of his words struck Ritsuka as odd, he thought back to their first conversation.

An unpleasant weight settled in his gut, the gnawing feeling pulsed through his mind and he found himself chewing his lips. With arms folded, he regarded the Avenger from head to toe, searching for something that even he could not speak of, but he knew he would find it if it was there.

"...Ash."

The single call of his name brought the full attention of the man onto him.

"...Are you doing this…because it's…" He paused, trying to find the words that would get the point across gently and avoid sounding insulting. But he found none, there was only one way he could actually describe what he was feeling here. "...Because it feels mandatory to you?"

He hoped that he was wrong, and that he had just insulted the person instead.

Ritsuka would have been happy if that was the case.

With a straight look, Ash spoke. "I told you. It is right for me to present a gift to her. From the very beginning."

That confirmed it, and it confirmed what Gilgamesh had said as well.

From a certain point of view, at least.

"That isn't…" Ritsuka lowered his eyes, "...There's nothing that forces you to give something to someone of Valentines day. It's just as much a matter of you giving as much as it is someone else receiving. It is a show of appreciation, the work you put into a gift and what they get out of it."

"I have put dozens of hours into this gift." Ash replied, confusion and frustration laced through his words, even as his face remained as blank as paper. "Is there more that are required? Is there a basic-"

"No."

He interrupted them, raising his hand and waving the explanation away.

"But I can understand why Gilgamesh said what he said, but at the same time…it's not the same for everyone. Some feel more strongly about the matter than others, so letting their words affect you-"

"Ritsuka."

The tables were turned when it came to interruptions, Ash was looking at him with a sharp gaze, demanding too.

He knew there was no getting around it, so he told the truth.

"He said it was hollow because you're treating it like a mandatory event. As if you're being forced to do this, not because you want to do this."

"I am doing it because it is-"

"Because it is right, you've said." Ritsuka nodded along, feeling the exhaustion creep in. Raising his left hand, he dropped it onto the back of his neck and rubbed across, scratching away as he spoke. "But the thing is…that's not true. It's expected for someone to give something to a friend or lover on Valentines day, but you don't have to do it. There's no law that requires it…it might be an unspoken social thing, but it's not enforced."

Ash regarded him long and silent, then spoke in a voice small and quiet.

Like a child.

"...But it's right."

"That's…" Ritsuka exhaled. "Calling something right or supposed to isn't really how this works. But what really matters is what you want…Do you want to give something to Nobunaga?"

He searched the expression once more, finding nothing, but Ash did nod his head once.

"Then that is all that matters at the moment." Ritsuka finished, leaning back into the stool and shrugging his shoulders. "If it is what you want, then that is all that matters. But for future reference, you should be doing this based on what you want, not because you think you're being forced to do it. No one would think less of you for not doing it."

Ritsuka wouldn't at the very least.

Ash dropped his eyes. "I do not understand. I try and yet I find nothing. You claim it does not matter, but if that were the case, for what reason would Gilgamesh even bring it up in the first place? How can something matter so little and yet be worth mentioning in the eyes of a King?"

"Personal preference." He replied, but even he was drawing up blanks on how to answer. "Like I said, if this is what you want to do then it is what you want to do. People can criticise you for it, but I can see the hard work you've been putting into this."

Stepping up, he moved towards the cups and looked over them, hands dropping to his hips.

"No one can deny that you've been trying with these. I think if you didn't care, then you would have put in the bare minimum effort just so that you could hand over something. The fact you've been trying again and again to get them perfect shows that you do care."

That was how he saw it.

When he turned to Ash, he was met with a thoughtful expression. "But that effort is what Gilgamesh calls hollow."

"Maybe it started as an obligatory effort." Ritsuka admitted, because he could not deny that it was how Ash made it appear. Him doing something for the sake of it, but there was something more to it now. At least, that was how he saw it. "No one would go so far for an obligatory effort if they did not care about the person they were giving it to."

Bringing up a hand, he gestured towards Ash.

"You might say it is right to give something to Nobunaga, but you wanted it to be as good as it could possibly be."

"...Is the distinction that important?" Ash asked, a brow raised. "Should it not be expected that any gift is granted to the best standard it could be?"

"Ideally, yes." Ritsuka agreed. "But if it is something obligatory, most would put in the bare minimum effort. Basically, even if this was obligatory, it's still from you and that's what counts. What I mean is…it's not actually all that hollow. Or it was and isn't anymore? You took a hollow meaning and that gave it a purpose."

"...I do not understand."

Neither did he, not truly.

Ritsuka rubbed at his brow, struggling to find the words to explain it at a greater depth than he was managing.

Unfortunately, he was struggling to find the words.

"The reason was simple…but through your own actions it has become good? Or in working, you were passionate in your own way?"

The blank expression remained.

"...It's hard to say, but I think that you did a runabout back into making a really thoughtful gift."

He gestured towards the mugs. "You could have stopped as soon as they were passable, but you kept going because you didn't want to give Nobunaga something below your own expectations. You wanted her to have the very best form of the gift you were preparing. That is an incredible level of thoughtfulness, Ash."

The blonde furrowed his brows. "It does not feel that way."

"It rarely does." Ritsuka chuckled. "You do something for the person. You never really understand just how thoughtful it is. You can imagine but for you it's like…it doesn't feel like a big deal. For the other person? It matters quite a lot because you've put effort into making them something. Real effort they can see with their own two eyes."

"This is…difficult to understand." Ash muttered, "Confusing. I did nothing that felt thoughtful or heartfelt. I make something for her and it should be as it is."

"...Maybe it doesn't matter."

A blink, the blonde turned on him with furrowed brows. "What?"

"The reasoning doesn't matter." Ritsuka replied again, finding his footing and holding his hands up. "I can't explain it further to you. You want to give someone a gift and are putting effort into it. That's all that matters, you and the person you're wanting to show appreciation for. In the end, that's all that really matters on Valentines day."

"That…but you…that makes the conversation pointless-"

"Yep."

Ash frowned. "Does that not concern you?"

"I've tried to explain it, but maybe there doesn't have to be an explanation. Gilgamesh has his own opinion and he's entitled to it. I've told you my own thoughts but at the end of the day, what matters is what happens between you and Nobunaga. Tell me, Ash…what do you want to do?"

Slowly, the blonde tilted his head to the side. A childlike innocence in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"What do you want to do with all of this effort, all of this work." He waved a hand towards the clay. "This tea set. What do you want to do with it?"

"...I want to give it to Nobunaga when it is completed."

"And are you going to stop until it's perfect?"

"...No."

An easy smile formed on his face, waving his hand towards the blonde. "Then you have your answer. The only one that matters. You are doing this because you want to Ash. Maybe you think it's obligatory…but I remember a time when you would have avoided this sort of thing entirely and called it a waste. To go from that to this…I'm proud of you, really."

"...I do not feel as though the change is worth much if I do not understand the full implications of the day in question."

All Ritsuka did was shrug. "People can be complicated. For now…I think you should finish your present. Talk to me again after you hand it to Nobunaga and see her reaction. We can speak again and decide if you still think the reasoning matters."

Ash looked at him, truly looked.

Ritsuka saw a thin hope in his eyes, but it was shrouded in trepidation. "Do you…believe my answer will change after that point?"

"...I can't see the future, Ash. I can only guess." With a shake of the head, Ritsuka stepped away and towards the door. "But on that topic, I'm making a guess that there might be some valentines themed party or something going on. I wouldn't put it past some of the guys around here."

Ash grunted, their anxious expression wilted away and replaced with stone cold lines. "Nor would I. The absence of Da Vinci lends credence to this theory."

Was that why Da Vinci wasn't here?

Hmmm.

"If there is such a thing, would you be willing to attend?"

"...It is right-"

"Ash…do you want to attend?"

Ash was silent, then he looked at Ritsuka and shrugged. "I do not know. Maybe I will find my answer if I do attend."

There was something more there, it looked as though the Avenger wished to say something else.

But whatever it was, he did not follow through.

Silence entered the room, then broken as the wheel spun and the clay turned on the table once more. With wet hands, Ash returned to work and resumed shaping the clay before him. As he had presumably done so a hundred times, Ritsuka watched the effort in silence. Examining the care at which the blonde moved, cupping the clay with light fingers.

He wondered how long he had worked to make himself capable of that single movement.

How many failures Ash had endured just for this one set.

Perhaps Ash did not understand the answer, but Ritsuka was sure he did.

There was no doubt that Ash was really putting his own passion into the work.

A perfectionist to the very end.


Mash leaned back, then turned to Gwynevere.

There was a faint hope that blossomed in her heart as she watched the cake slowly rise in the oven. One that had not been there for the previous attempts, it was a look she could see mirrored in the eyes of the Goddess, though not quite as obvious as she was sure she was making.

It had been a long process and there had been many failures, but she had strong feelings about this latest attempt.

Her eyes moved from the Goddess and onto Boudica.

When she saw the faint but soft smile on the face of the Rider, and the small incline of the head aimed her way, she knew that this was the one that she had finally managed to get right. It was quite a relief.

"Far be it from me to put a damper on your celebrations."

Even as he said that, Mash could have sworn that for a second she saw a glimmer of a smile on the face of the tanned Archer. Yet just as quickly, his face was reverted to the thin line that she had grown accustomed to seeing whenever they stopped by the kitchen in the last few days of work.

"But there is still the matter of the decorations to prepare. The cake is completed, but the icing and the filling will need to be sorted as well."

He made a small gesture towards assembled fruits they had prepared, a mixture of strawberries and raspberries. She knew that Senpai liked fruity things and she did want the cake to be just as healthy for them - as healthy as jam could be - as much as it was sugary. That and they were going to top it with strawberries as well.

"Right, Archer-san."

With a thankful nod of the head, she moved towards the counter, flanked by the Goddess and quickly taking up a knife in her hands. Swiftly moving to remove the stems from each of the strawberries and place them into a smaller bowl at the side.

"This has been hard work, has it not?"

It was a faint comment from the Goddess, but Mash found herself agreeing with it wholeheartedly.

"Yes, but even at its worst…I still found it to be an…enjoyable thing."

"Is that so?" Gwynevere did not sound questioning, just intrigued. "I will admit that this has been quite an experience for me as well, one that I shall not soon forget. Fufufu~ Here I was trying to have you enjoy yourself, and I fear I too was swept into it."

That was…Mash was relieved to hear that, she had been a little bit worried if Gwynevere had been forcing herself just for the sake of aiding her.

That the Goddess wasn't troubled was fine.

"...I suppose the next time you make an attempt like this, you could bring the boy as well."

Mash paused, almost slipping but catching herself at the last second. Her head whipped up and stared at the Goddess with raised brows. "E-eh? With Senpai?"

Gwynevere looked down at her, humming in her throat. "Of course. A skill such as this needs to be practiced as often as one may find the time for it, and often a hobby is best practiced when in the company of a special individual."

Special…individual?

She felt a bit of heat creep up her cheeks, but she couldn't explain why.

"T-that is...uhm…I-I'm sure that Senpai has other things to do-"

"Nonsense." Gwynevere dismissed with a good natured chuckle, but the refusal came so swiftly it was as though the remainder of her words were sliced down. "I'm certain that the boy would welcome the chance to spend time with you, and he would be quite silly to refuse. No, if this experience has taught me anything it is that even at the lowest points, there is the opportunity for growth in the relationship between two."

A brief pause, the Goddess hummed. "Though, it need not be the boy specifically. I'm certain there are others who would be content - perhaps even pleased - to work beside you during such a mundane task."

Mash inclined her head. "You mean like helping Ash bake bread?"

"..."

It was a small moment, but the expression of the Goddess froze before it loosened. "...Perhaps."

"...He bakes good bread, I think."

"I shall take your word for it." Gwynevere replied with a hum, her eyes fixed on the bowls. "I have not had the chance to try it, even if I were so inclined…I doubt he would be pleased with my touching it."

Mash shook her head. "He made it for everyone but…"

She trailed off.

Ignoring the issue would not help.

She did not see Ash being angry, but she wasn't sure he would be happy either.

It was something she wasn't sure she could speak with any authority over. She was upset over what happened to Ash, but then she had spoken with Gwynevere and…

…Even with the looming shadow of what happened with Ash, with everything that Gwynevere did for her, it was difficult to dislike her.

Perhaps that was because Mash found it hard to truly dislike anyone.

…Not even after they did painful things.

Her fingers itched.

It was gone just as soon as it arrived, her eyes drifted back to the fruits. "We should continue, Gwynevere-san. I'm sure that others are starting to want to get into the kitchen, and I feel bad for taking it for so long."

"Of course." With a smile, the Goddess moved to resume her own efforts, bringing out the pan and the sugar. "Hmmm. Perhaps I shall give this more thought, it would be rather wounding for my pride if I was not able to show a certain prowess in something such as this…and between you and I…"

With a glance left and right, Gwynevere leaned down and dropped her voice into a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes danced with mirth.

"I would much rather the impression of myself covered in batter not be the first thought that springs to mind when one pictures my presence in the kitchens."

Mash felt a small giggle rise in her throat. "I think I looked worse, Gwynevere-san."

"Hmmm. We shall have to disagree on that point, Mash-senpai."