Remaining Days: 5

"Good morning, Hakuno," Leo greets me just as usual when I get into the classroom. I've been a bit late today, so he happened to get here before me.

It's not that I was slacking off — really, I'm not — but somehow it feels like I'm not quite there yet. What normally takes five minutes seems to take at least eight, and I don't realize it until later. It's like I lost my sense of time completely. What feels like just a short moment might have just been half an hour, and checking the time is the only thing clearing that up.

It's a strange feeling I'm unfamiliar with, it's just making me uncomfortable. Like the world around me and I don't match and with a shudder it reminds me of the feeling I had before I joined this Holy Grail War, when I was still in the preliminaries. Minus the headache and the pressure, at least.

"Morning, Leo," I return his greeting and he, yet again, doesn't force the conversation to continue, giving me the solitude I crave.

Part of me feels like I should apologize for being so curt yesterday, but… what's the point to that? I consider asking him how he feels about what he had done in the last round, taking someone's life to further his own ambition, but I decide against it.

Is there any answer I would even want to hear? Is there anything that would make me feel better, or understood?

According to Dan, other Masters aren't as unbothered as they may seem; just a lot better than me at dealing with the uneasiness, the guilt, the regrets. It allows me to see them as more human again, but at the same time, how much does it change? They took lives. Then again, so did I.

I can't help but ruminate over this, every Master just feels like a murderer to me — like someone who shouldn't be part of any society and outcast. It's entirely hypocritical. I'm no better than them. No, in fact, aren't I worse?

The other Masters have a wish that makes it worth for them to carry these burdens on their back for the chance to make that wish come true; I'm only doing it for survival. I'm killing to survive, just to not even truly live anymore. My day passes by without me realizing most of it. I'm not properly living, I'm existing. And that's what I've taking a child's life for.

Would it be easier if I had a proper reason to fight, like Dan said? Would that make the guilt bearable? I hope there's truth to Dan's words, and he seemed to speak from his wealth of experience. But that doesn't change the fact that I don't have a reason to fight, and it's not that easy to find one either.

What do I want? Live? Sure. Get out of here? Obviously. Live a normal life, the one I'm pretending to have half the day here? Yeah. But those are inevitabilities should I win the Holy Grail War. I don't have to wish for the Holy Grail to grant me that wish. So I don't feel they qualify as reasons to fight.

No, a proper reason to fight would be something important enough and unattainable by normal means that I would've willingly joined this Holy Grail War to reach that goal I could normally only dream of. I'll need to find that, but that's easier said than done.

First of all, I will try to live again. Stick to a schedule, try to grow. I'm sure I'll be more likely to find a reason to fight doing that than holing myself up in my room letting my thoughts spiral, not leading anywhere at all. Even though, really, that's what I'd rather do.

Lunch break comes sooner than I would've expected. I don't exactly want to, but I decide to head for the cafeteria anyway. Saber has expectations for me — of which I'm able to meet none of, I'm sure, so I'll at least try to live up to them. If nothing else, it gives me some sense of direction.

As I leave the classroom, Rin Tohsaka walks past me. I can tell she saw me, because she clicks her tongue and speeds up on her way up the roof. Normally, she would at least properly look at me, or throw some verbal abuse my way. Seems she doesn't deem me worthy of even that anymore, worthy of none of her time.

Well, fine. I'd rather not waste my time on her anymore either. Not since she just casually let me know that she's known I'm up against an eight-year-old child from the very beginning but didn't tell me because she doesn't want to help another Master with giving them information. What a great reason.

At the cafeteria, I buy three slices of the premium roll cake to try and improve my mood. It's not the healthier type of meal I would normally go for, but I can't bring myself to care much about that. Any food should be better than none, so it's fine.

Saber and I take a free table in the much emptier cafeteria, compared to last round at least. Makes sense, as only about half the Masters are left.

"I'm glad you decide to have lunch today, Master," Saber says. She doesn't criticize my choice of meal.

"You were right," I tell her. This gets Saber's attention and she doesn't object, but she seems to wonder what I'm referring to. "I shouldn't have trusted Rin Tohsaka."

Not with her help on the Code Cast, not with anything at all.

"Obviously. She's another Master. It's good you came to recognize that, but… What made you realize your error in judgment?"

"She knew Shinji was a kid," I mutter, stuffing another bite of the premium roll cake into my mouth, if only to distract myself from the nausea at the memory of his last moments. "She knew and didn't tell me."

"Hmmm," Saber hums. "I wouldn't have told you either had I known."

"What!?"

Why? Rin keeping information from me is one thing. I'm stupid for having trusted her more than I should have, that's on me. But Saber? My Servant? We're partners, aren't we? If anyone, she should be the one sharing all and every information she has with me. I know now she's ruthless, but—

"What would you have done if you knew, Master?"

Her gaze is serious. What would I have done? Had I known Shinji is a kid, I…

"You're realizing it, don't you? You wouldn't have been able to go all out against him anymore."

Saber's words sting. Because she's treating me like I'm a kid who's better off not knowing certain things, unable to process them properly. Because she's treating me like it, and she's entirely correct. I can't deny that.

"You're too soft-hearted, Master. You aren't prepared for the reality of war at all. Had you known your opponent is a kid, I'm sure you would've held back, preferring to die over killing a child."

Heat is coursing through my body. Is that true? No, it is. I'm sure of it.

"You struggled with your situation as is from the beginning. I know you tried your hardest to brave those feelings, and believe me, I commend you for that, Master. But knowing the person you have to kill is a child would have broken you, that much was clear."

I can't deny what's happening. Am I that easy to read? Is Saber that much more perceptive than I give her credit for?

"In fact, it would've been better had you never found out at all."

Saber, done voicing her thoughts, moves her attention back to her extra big cheeseburger.

She said all of that so nonchalantly, as usual. Saber isn't the type to mince her words, but one thing is clear to me now, and it surprises me.

"You care about me after all," I mutter without realizing it.

That's definitely true. Saber doesn't show it, and maybe for the most part she really is indifferent, but there is no doubt that she worries about me. It doesn't refute her cruelty and ruthlessness, but clearly there's more to this Servant than that. I've misunderstood and underestimated her after the Elimination Battle. No, even before that.

"What? Don't mistake my words for kindness, Master. It's just about efficiency and assuring the highest chance of victory."

She says so with her usual neutral face, but the surprise on her face before she rejected my statement makes me think that she's lying. Not completely; I'm sure that she really cares mostly about winning the battles, but it's clear to me now that she genuinely cares about me as well, even if she might not actually show it.

If only Rin was the same… though I suppose that much can't be expected from a fellow Master.

"After classes we'll go to the Arena," I tell Saber. "The first Trigger was generated today, too."

Saber seems pleased with my decision. She's the only person in this I can rely on, so even if it's rough on me, and even if I can't shake my feelings of numbness and disassociation, I want to move on for her sake.

I know that's not a 'reason to fight' I can settle for, but it's better than none for now.

It turns out to be Sir Dan Blackmore teaching the afternoon classes today. The one who took the time yesterday to talk to me because he noticed me struggling. Though he's not the only one who noticed. Leo, Rin and Saber all knew. Am I an open book to people around me?

I want to thank Dan for reaching out and offering his support, even if it didn't change much yet. But I don't think he had any illusions about a small conversation like that fixing my issues. No, he of all people should know it's not that easy. Still, he handed me what can be considered a valuable information — telling me something that I lack.

His class, as usual, focuses on various gardening topics. Nothing related to the Grail War. I don't think any of his tips can even be applied here at all. But he seems so passionate about this. Gardening must be a hobby of his that's dear to him. It's not what one would think a former soldier to be interested in, is it?

I wonder… did I use to have a hobby I was passionate about, too? Would I have been able to teach classes about it just like Dan? Would it maybe be something I could still find joy even now, when I don't even feel like myself, or alive?

Class ends while I'm still stuck in my own head, and I didn't catch much of the lecture's content. Well… At least it won't be much of a disadvantage. I didn't miss out on crucial combat-relevant intel.

"Are you ready, Master?" Saber asks me without materializing. I nod.

"Yeah, let's go."

The Arena's environment differs a bit from last week. It's still underwater, and a sight to behold but it seems to be darker. Maybe it's deeper? Well, not actually, given this is just a simulation, but that must be the feeling this part of the Arena is trying to invoke.

I didn't know before that the Arena would change from round to round, and I can't really make sense of why it would. Is it to reward Masters who pull through with more and more stunning beauty of an undersea world? No, I doubt a world like this would waste any processing capabilities on such niceties that serve no real purpose.

There's no reward for Masters who make it to another round. The reward — disgusting enough to refer to it as such — is to live to see another week. That, and still having the chance to obtain the Holy Grail. That's it. Not more, not less. It's bitter, nothing but bitter, really.

Even the one Master who is able to get through all the rounds, getting their hands on the Holy Grail they desired so badly — they, too, can't be called a victor. They got other people's blood on their hands, no way around that. Either they don't have the humanity in them to be bothered by that, which would make them a despicable if not pitiable existence, or they do and they will be riddled with guilt for the rest of their life.

Is there any wish worth that outcome? Is there anything so important that one would trade their peace of mind for it willingly? I can't say. It seems like a foreign idea to me.

"Master, focus," Saber calls out to me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry."

Focus, Hakuno! You can't space out in a situation like this.

"Let's try that one," I say, pointing towards a new type of Enemy Program we haven't seen before. "Strike first, then move back and get ready to counter."

"Understood, Master," Saber agrees and charges at the big monster.

She swings her swords with both hands, leaving a deep cut in the Enemy Program's artificial shell. They're not bleeding, given they have no veins to pump blood through and surely no heart to begin with, but the wound lacks particles that dissolve in the air.

I cover my mouth with my hand. That's exactly how it's been last week, too, but I didn't think much of it. In fact, I hardly registered it; there was no reason for me to care about Enemy Programs, artificial beings that exist for no other reason to be more useful training dummies than a simple punching bag would be.

But this effect… it's that of death. It's undefinable particles, but they're not nothing — they're life itself. The artificial life in the Enemy Programs. The life of a Master. Of Shinji, who dissolved into the very same particles. What's the difference between an Enemy Program and a Servant or even a Master, really…? In this world we're all digital beings. We function the same.

I can't do this. I can't. My mind is screaming at me and my body is shivering.

I barely register Saber clicking her tongue, finishing off the Enemy Program while I refuse to look at the scene of battle, before returning to my side. She grabs my shoulder and shakes me forcefully.

"Master, you can't just avert your eyes mid-battle! You need to see this through."

"I… I can't…"

Saber slaps me. It stings like hell, and my cheek feels hot when I touch it with my own hand. Whether it's the shock or the pain, but my nerves have calmed down considerably.

"Thanks," I tell Saber. "I needed that."

I sure hope I don't sound like a masochist, but I'm thankful for this attack.

"Anytime." Saber smirks.

Ah, I see. She's all too happy to slap some sense into her Master, huh? Maybe there was quite some frustration bottled up in her that she was able to vent at least a little in that one strike. I don't want this to become a habit, but if so, I'm glad it helped her.

"It reminded me of… Shinji," I tell her. "It looked the same."

"That can't be helped. That's the process of deletion," Saber explains nonchalantly.

Yeah, I know that. But that just makes it worse. Shinji, a human being, being treated the same as a thing without a coherent thought or consciousness. It's cruel, it's heartless.

"You must force yourself to look, Master."

Saber says that so sternly, and I swallow. I broke down in the first battle on this floor, I can hardly remember details of the battle at all, and she wants me to go through that again…? Naturally Saber wouldn't allow me any rest, huh… Coming to the Arena might have been a mistake.

There's no way around it, I can't just be blind to the battles Saber is fighting for my sake. I know that much, but… It's hard.

"The sight will only grow harder to bear the longer you avoid it. You must face it now so you can face it tomorrow," Saber explains.

Am I eventually going to be able to watch someone die without feeling anything at all, just like her? I don't want that, I don't want to be that ruthless. At the same time, it feels tempting… Almost anything is better than feeling this way.

"Got it."

I don't have much of a choice… and even if there technically was one, I don't think Saber would leave me the freedom of choice anyway.

We make our way further into the Arena, though we avoid the bigger, more dangerous-seeming Enemy Programs.

"I can't deal with a real battle and my Master having a breakdown at the same time," Saber mutters under her breath.

I feel a sharp stab in my stomach. I've been holding her back from the very beginning, but now I'm effectively handicapping her. No, I can't stay like this.

"Keep your eyes on the opponent," Saber reminds me as she charges at a small Enemy Program, one we know from the previous week.

She should be able to take it out in a single strike. My memory proves right. Saber cuts the sphere-shaped Enemy Program right in half, the two parts dissolving quickly.

I bite my lip and clench my fists tightly enough that I can feel my nails digging into my palm. I can't look away. I must see this through. Even the tears dwelling up in my eyes don't stop me; as hard and unbearable as it feels, I keep my eyes on the dissolving Enemy Program until it's gone.

Just to sink down to my knees the moment it disappeared entirely, the very second I can relax my efforts. This is rough, and it hurts. Not even the physical pain I inflict on myself involuntarily can keep up to fully distract me. At best, it makes the sight barely bearable.

"See?" Saber says. "You can do it."

"…what?" I whisper, in disbelief. Is Saber mocking me?

"Earlier you said you 'can't'. But just now you were looking the whole time. Did it kill you?"

It feels like it did. No, part of me even wishes it did. But I'm still alive, and I'm breathing.

"You got through it, didn't you? Why did you think you can't?"

"It feels unbearable… I… It's hard to explain," I mumble. I don't know how to put my feelings into words.

"And yet, you got through it just fine. Catch your breath and let's move on."

Saber is relentless. I nod, wipe my eyes with my uniform's sleeves and get back up on slightly wobbly legs. I take a deep breath, and Saber seems pleased that I'm willing to push on.

Eventually, we reach the box containing the Trigger. I almost gave up on making it this far today, but it's good that I was wrong.

"Let's head back, Master," Saber suggests.

I'm glad she does. I didn't want to be the one to pull out, not when I've been nothing but a burden on her.

Back in our dorm room, I change into my pajama and put the school uniform into the laundry basket in the bathroom.

"Good to see you can change on your own again," Saber comments, dematerializing her armor and sitting down on her own bed.

"Huh?"

"I had to do that for you after the Elimination Battle."

…ah. So that's why I woke up not wearing my school uniform yesterday. She didn't bother to tell me about that until now for some reason, but I should've been able to draw that conclusion myself. Who else could have changed my clothes?

"Thanks," I tell her, though it's kind of awkward. "For today in the Arena, too."

Saber seems to ponder over something.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. No, let me at least say this much, Master: While you are still weak, your strength lies in your determination. You lack a reason to fight, but even without one, you can push on. It makes one wonder how strong you would be if you had something to fight for."

… is that so? I don't think that highly of myself. I'm wavering right now. I wouldn't even say I truly live. The only reason I'm pushing on is because Saber is forcing me to, isn't it? I don't think I have that special of a willpower myself.