Fate: Souls and Singularities

by Mundatorem

Singularities. Points in Human History which have become corrupted with the presence of a Holy Grail with the end result being the incineration of Humanity. However, it is not the Grails alone which are divergent. The Incineration comes about as one world in particular comes to an end. The two become linked as figures from a different Throne reach across the barriers between worlds

253. Valentines: VII

Valentines: VII

Olga awoke to thudding on her bedroom door.

Her eyes fluttered open, brief thoughts that it was nothing more than a hallucination were quickly - and cruelly - stomped out when the sound returned, stronger than before. The echoing drum of a fist on metal pushed itself through her.

She lay there, hoping that whomever was at her door would eventually get the message that she did not wish to be disturbed.

When the sound came a third time, she resigned herself to her fate.

Legs sweeping over the side of the bed, her hands moved to rub over her eyes, spots blinked from her vision and slowly, a weight settled on her shoulders.

The memory of what today was fell upon her rather suddenly, her eyes drifted to the door once more and she felt unease sweep through her. There was only one person who would be in such a rush to get her today. Or, well, perhaps two but she wasn't sure which of them would be worse to be ambushed by.

Olga understood that she could not avoid it.

All she could do was face it with all the dignity she could muster and hope that the day came to a peaceful end. Perhaps it would not be as bad as she envisioned, but the words of Ritsuka drifted through her mind even before she finished the thought.

An ominous warning, so potent that it was as if he were in the room with her now, delivering it so clearly into her ear.

Don't jinx it.

Yes, perhaps that was exactly what she had done just now.

A breath escaped her, then a jolt of annoyance shot through her body as the door was knocked upon once more. This time with greater urgency, her brows drew tight as a brief pang of confusion drifted through her mind for a moment.

Why wasn't Marie just bursting through the door?

It was hardly as though the Queen had even a basic notion of common sense, much the same with Nero.

…Maybe it was someone else coming to tell her that there was a problem.

That was all she needed.

Her mouth opened, tongue wetting dry lips as her voice echoed out to the door before the next knocks could come and drum themselves into her head. "I will be there in a moment."

Whomever was behind the door clearly heard her, the knocks did not come again for the duration of the time it took for her to get out of her night clothes and into her formal wear.

She stared into her reflection as she wiped her face clean, it looked more haggard than she would have hoped. Her fingers moved up, tracing along the lines just below her eyes, evidence that she had not gotten as much sleep as she would have liked. Either it was early in the morning, or she had remained awake during the night for far longer than she hoped.

Her fingers pulled back, a frown wormed its way onto her reflection.

With a click of the tongue, she turned and marched out of the bathroom, door shutting behind her.

Then her gaze snapped to the door to her room, now feeling more ominous than before, and she exhaled. Gathering what confidence she had, her features hardened and she marched for the door. Hand reaching for the button to open it and pausing just a hair away from it.

…She was going to refuse Marie.

Yes, that was what she was going to do.

She was going to look the Rider in the eye and tell her that she wasn't going to some silly little dance.

That was what she decided.

She needed to maintain some air of dignity amongst Chaldea, to mitigate whatever harm had been done to her image with past outings. It would be for the best. What mattered was Chaldea and the sense of strength she could present, that the situation was under control and that she was on top of things.

Even if that wasn't always the case, she still needed the staff to believe it was the case.

Her hand pressed the button, the door hissed and slid open.

Her words died on her lips as she found herself staring not at the grinning face of Marie, but instead at scaled bronze armour.

Twice she blinked in puzzlement, her eyes drifted upwards and met the heterochromatic gaze of the Berserker.

What was he doing here?

"...Sorry if you were sleeping." Berserker started, taking the first steps into the conversation. "It was just…nevermind. I've disturbed your sleep now, so I will ask what I came here to ask and then be on my way."

He straightened to his full height, a head above her, and looked down. Mismatched eyes brimming with confidence which she had failed to notice before - or maybe it just wasn't there before? - with a deep breath, his next words came out crisp and clean.

"There is somewhere I would like us to go. Can you accompany me?"

She squinted, then leaned back slightly.

This wasn't what she was expecting.

A few seconds of silence passed, then she leaned forwards and turned her head left and right. Eyes swept along every inch of the hallways either side of her, searching for any trace of the white haired Queen hiding in a corner. It felt strange that Berserker would remain so distant from her and then suddenly he would be here on today of all days.

There was no sign of anyone.

It was just her and Berserker.

She returned to her original position, looking into the eyes of the Servant and then she spoke.

"Where?"

"...A small Singularity." Berserker replied, not losing an ounce of confidence. "Roman said that it will disappear by the end of the day, but there is something that I would like to do there first and I would like-"

He paused, then frowned.

Olga raised an eyebrow at him as he cut himself short.

"...I want you to accompany me there. The two of us."

This was unorthodox.

It was bewildering and downright suspicious.

Her arms came up and folded over her chest, eyes narrowed. "And why should I do that? You're asking me to abandon Chaldea for an undisclosed reason purely on a personal whim of yours? Why should I leave my facility and staff for such vague notions?"

Berserker nodded his head, expression unchanged.

As if he expected the answer.

"It will not be for long. An hour at most or fewer." The explanation came with a shake of the head. "But it is important to me. There is something that I want to show you and I…I cannot do it here."

Closing his eyes, he took in a breath.

"I would not ask this if I did not think it was of the utmost importance."

When his eyes opened, Olga saw something that nagged at her.

There was a familiarity in his eyes that she did not recognise.

"I am asking you to trust me, Sis…Olga." He corrected himself, then slowly raised his right hand and showed his palm to her. She understood the gesture a moment later as she stared at it, brows furrowed and then brought her eyes back to him as he continued.

She twitched. "How can I trust you…I do not even know your name. You did not even see fit to share that with me."

That could not be ignored.

Now this Servant comes and demands her trust when he showed her not an ounce of it before? No, she was not going to give ground on this so easily. She was not going to be like Ritsuka, pulled along at the wrist by whatever Servant came up to him with some fanciful notion and a half-baked explanation.

She demanded something more tangible.

"I know."

Berserker replied in a quiet tone.

His hand remained up.

"But not because I did not trust you. It was because it was not worth knowing. Perhaps it still is not but…but that was unfair of me."

His eyes dipped down.

"...I should have told you that. When we first met. I should have told you exactly who I was, but I did not. Because…"

Slowly, his head shook from side to side. Anguish present on his features before his eyes rose once more.

"...It does not matter now. I am fixing that problem now. I want to show you everything. Who I am."

There was a weight in his words that briefly left her speechless.

Something about his manner of speaking, his posture, confidence. All of it was whipping through her mind as though she had seen all of it before. Even in those eyes that brimmed with life and expectation. She saw something that struck her as familiar, but there was nothing in the face of the Servant that she recognised in the least.

It was maddening.

And yet…

…Why did she want to listen to them? Why was there something telling her that she should go with them?

It was a foolish notion that she should dismiss out of hand, to abandon Chaldea for such a thing that should have been given to her the moment they were summoned was not just laughable, it was pathetic. Following around a Servant with the expectation they would give her mere crumbs of information regarding their identity?

It looked as though the Servant was in control and not the Master.

And yet this did not feel as though it was a situation like that.

"...Everything?"

A singular nod of the head was her answer.

Her eyes returned to the hand, the frown on her lips remained.

It would keep her from what she knew would be a situation, at least for a time…

"...Very well." She exhaled, looking back up and seeing the naked relief shine through the eyes of Berserker. He did not let out a breath, but she saw him fight it back. Clearly he had been preparing himself for her denial, rather than acceptance.

In any case.

Knowing the name of her Servant would certainly be better than not knowing it.

---

Ritsuka woke up early.

He always woke up early these days, so much so that it was now the norm.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself up and rubbed at his eyes. Dragging them down and blinking his vision into focus. A sweeping glance around the room revealed that it was just himself, at least for what he could see.

Without checking the wardrobe or under the bed, he wasn't certain.

But there was a good reason he had woken up earlier than usual today.

It was because he wanted the finishing touches on what he had prepared the day before.

What he had been spending nearly the entire day doing. It would certainly mean that a supply trip to a Singularity would be necessary in short order, but there was very little that could help that. And he could not claim to feel guilty about it, the extra work more than made up for everything else.

Rising from his bed, Ritsuka made his way through the usual checklist of getting himself prepared for the day.

Once finished, he departed his room at great haste and moved down the corridors in a very near run, but not quite. He would have preferred to avoid stumbling into the kitchens with sweat on his brow, especially if he was to be handling biscuits.

That would be rather unhygienic.

As he moved, he spotted a shape at the far end of the hallway, standing near the doors to the elevator.

"Morning, Arkon."

He greeted as he moved closer.

The metal shadow turned and lowered their head in a polite bow. "My Lord."

Telling Arkon and Ledo apart was easier to do from behind than the front, Arkon had the dull red cape while Ledo's was a faint grey.

"You are early, my Lord."

The comment earned a raised brow, but Ritsuka nodded all the same. If Arkon saw it, then he assumed the knight patrolled this section of Chaldea frequently.

"Yeah, I'm heading down to the kitchens to prepare some stuff." Ritsuka explained, not giving anything too specific away.

Arkon hummed in response, the elevator doors matched his tone as they parted. The pair stepping through into the enclosed space, the doors swiftly shutting behind them as they turned back around.

"You too are busying yourself with this holiday?"

Ritsuka smiled. "Yeah. You've heard of it then?"

Arkon gave a stiff nod. "In this climate, it would have proved a challenge to avoid some measure of warning of what is to come. Tell me…Should we be expecting some manner of unique circumstances to befall us? To your knowledge, at least?"

He wanted to say no.

Then he paused and pulled his lips thin.

He also wanted to avoid jinxing it.

"...I'm leaning for nothing beyond what people are aware of." Was his reply instead, "So it should be under control this time around. Though I'm guessing that you're going to be paying a close eye on everything happening today then?"

The knight nodded once more. "I have noticed a disturbing pattern in Chaldea when it concerns holidays."

Unable to deny that, Ritsuka nodded his head once more.

"So, are you going to be spending all day patrolling around then?" He did not hide his disapproval at the notion. Something that knight caught instantly, the winged helm turned and aimed itself down. Arkon peered at him through the darkened visor.

"...That is my sworn duty."

"I think we would understand it if you took on a small break for the day." Ritsuka excused. "...I mean, I would at least like you to consider taking on a break for a couple of hours. I'm not going to ask you to stop working entirely, but I don't think Chaldea is going to fall into the sea or burst into flames if you step away for a short while to enjoy a little break."

Arkon drew in a breath, then released it.

"If this is a command-"

"Just a suggestion, not a command." Ritsuka hastily waved a hand. "You can ignore me if you want. It's just…I don't like the idea of people not enjoying themselves on holidays but if you'd rather not, then there is no helping it."

He felt the stare of the knight linger for a moment longer.

Then there was a faint hum, Arkon turned from him and faced the door to the elevator.

Ritsuka was not sure he would get anything more from the knight.

Then Arkon spoke.

"...Ledo will be there."

Ritsuka caught the whisper, his brows furrowed at the strangely empty tone of voice. "He might be? Well…You would probably know him better than I-"

"Would I?" Arkon sounded strangely curious, then shook his head. "No matter. With Ledo there, the establishment is at least protected. I shall see if my duties will be lessened towards the end of the day, but I can make no guarantees. Until the danger is sufficiently passed."

It sounded as though he was going to avoid the excitement.

Which was fair to him.

The elevator doors hummed open, two figures stood before the pair of them, stepping into the lift.

"My Liege."

"Aaaaaarrrr…."

Ritsuka immediately tensed and glanced between the two of them, from the moment the pair entered the elevator, the tension went from pleasant to suffocating. Verndari and Lancelot both, neither one made an effort to look at one another and, concerning above all that, both seemed to be armed with something shiny and metal.

Peering down, he found himself looking at…a helmet?

Yes, that is what it was.

Held in the claws of Lancelot was a helmet, smoothed over and relatively simple in design. Yet the darkened sheen to the steel was eerily similar to something else. The longer he looked, the more he figured it was similar to…

A singular blink, he found himself almost at a loss.

It…it looked as though it was made in the style of Mash's armour when she was a Servant, but he did not want to make any conclusions.

Yet now the thought was there, he could not dismiss it.

Closer inspection revealed that the design was a touch similar to Lancelot's own, at least hidden under the cloud of dark smoke, but with the face exposed to the air and missing the plume.

Something tickled his senses, his eyes drifted upwards from the helmet in Lancelot's hands.

Crimson red looked at him.

The visor of Lancelot remained fixed on his eyes.

Ritsuka froze, then pulled a polite smile and nodded to the Berserker, shuffling himself and turning away.

The stare lingered for several more seconds before it at last departed from him.

His eyes now turned onto Verndari, then glanced down to what he held in his hands. A sheathed blade, smaller than a longsword.

It looked fairly standard, but with the combination of the two of them coming from the same location…

"So, were you two in Andre's forge?"

He expected no response from Lancelot, but he got one from the pair of them at the same time.

"Gah."

"Yes, my liege."

Two answers, the pair glanced to one another, then broke contact and let the silence come about once again.

"Valentine's day presents?"

Verndari shifted at that, carved face turned on him and gave a single nod of the head. "That was the intention, my liege."

"That's nice of you." Ritsuka smiled, then gestured to the sword. "Not surprised, actually. I found Altera making up a staff for Beatrice as well not that long ago. Using some of the gathered materials out of storage to make one. It looked fairly alright for a first time project. So you made a sword?"

Verndari gave yet another nod of the helmet.

Ritsuka wasn't going to inquire as to who it was for, that would be a bit pushing.

Though, it seemed, he did not need to ask as Verndari spoke a moment later. "It is…For Sir Gareth."

That answer didn't surprise him either. "You didn't need to tell me-"

"Given that I intend for her to use it, there would be little point in it remaining a secret." Explained the knight, only to pause and bring up the blade to gaze down at it. Ritsuka could sense the slight anxiety about them, then the knight turned on him once more. "This is considered an acceptable gift, yes?"

His first thought was that it was a little late to be asking that now.

His second thought was that he had no problems.

"To each their own. I'm sure Gareth would definitely appreciate it."

Verndari made a noise. "I cannot think of a knight who would not appreciate a blade."

Arkon made a small grunt. "They speak truly. If Sir Gareth has any sense, they will accept the gift graciously…though I do hope that it was made with skill."

The knight stiffened ever so slightly. "I was given assurances by the blacksmith himself that it was of good make. This is hardly the first effort that I wield, it took several days to perfect it before I considered it acceptable. I have tested it myself."

Arkon hummed. "Then there shall be no problem."

Ritsuka, despite himself, felt a smile come across his lips.

Of course, he did not realise he was smiling until Verndari turned on him and inclined his head. "Something pleasant happen, my liege?"

"Hmm?" Ritsuka blinked, then shrugged. "Just happy to see everyone getting into the swing of things."

And he was.

---

"They have turned out rather splendidly." Siegward rumbled, a smile on his lips.

Ritsuka nodded by the side of the Saber. "Yeah. Never made so many though, normally three or four but…"

It had taken quite a bit of time, but he had managed it.

All that came next was filling in the bags.

And for each of them, he was going to write out a handwritten message for all of them. Personal notes for everyone, just so he got across that he did appreciate them.

Well…some of them.

Aldrich and Sulyvahn felt more obligatory than anything else.

Much like with Gwynevere.

Still, he was going to give them something at the very least.

Even if it was just an 'enjoy' note.

Four biscuits per bag and then into the bag they went, pen in hand and scribbling down the sames of them before sealing them up and setting them to one side. The process fell into a pattern, he'd write out one note and then already be onto the next one.

Siegward had offered, but Ritsuka had wanted to do it himself.

"You giving anything to anyone today?" Ritsuka found himself asking as he finished up the latest one for Sasaki, that one he had been particularly pleased with.

He'd made the biscuits into the general shape of swallows. Something that he was certain the Assassin would find amusing.

Siegward gave a small hum. "Mmmmmh. I would have, but the time got away from me."

Ritsuka turned on him with raised brows, then felt a bit of guilt creep into him. "It isn't because I asked-"

"Oh no, don't worry about all that." With a deft answer, the man cut him off with a wave of the hand. "I hadn't given much thought all the same. Perhaps I could have dragged something up but…"

He gave a shrug.

Ritsuka straightened, with the way the pair acted at times, he assumed that he might have given something to Boudica. He was sure that he hadn't been imagining it, but it might have been they were just friends. Well, they were friends but always felt he had a nose for something like that.

"Huh." He slowly turned and started writing the messages again. "You could probably whip up something quickly if you wanted to. I'm fine here…actually, if you want any help-"

"And steal you away?" Siegward sounded amused. "Nonsense, I'll not put you on hold. Keep writing out your thanks to your fellows and…hmmmm. Mmmmmmh. Maybe I can act swiftly and make up something small. I'm sure I could manage that with what we have left…Yes, I suppose I could do that."

The knight turned from him and paced away, muttering under his breath all the while.

Ritsuka did not even try to hide his smile when he heard the words 'shaped like a chariot' because he knew who that was going to be for.

A laugh bubbled away in the back of his throat, turning down and resuming.

The door at the far end of the cafeteria opened, his head snapped up a moment later as a shape skipped through the open doors and towards him. He straightened and briefly set aside his pen, raising a brow and putting on a warm smile as Marie skipped towards him.

Excitement rolled off her in droves, it was in her posture, it was in her movements and it was all over her face.

As if she had been the avatar of the very emotion.

With a graceful spin, like that of a skilled dancer, she twirled on the tip of her toes and then appeared before him, on the other side of the counter. Sporting her own smile which was nearly from ear to ear, eyes abuzz with giddiness.

"Bonjour~ Master!" She purred, leaning forwards. "What a wonderful morning it is. I see that you're an early riser for such a splendid day. I could hardly keep myself still, beside myself with such energy."

From the way she was on the verge of singing her words, he could see she was still like that now.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't excited." Ritsuka agreed, "This sort of day seems right up your alley."

"Well, I would hardly brag." Marie humbly replied. "But I would consider myself something of an expert in the field of romance. Valentines day is certainly one such field…but nevermind that!"

She looked down, leaning forwards and smiling even wider.

A breath escaped her, "What is this vue magnifique?~"

He looked at the ones he had already prepared, then back to the Queen and gave a shrug. "Well…I'm something of a dabbler in that sort of field myself. I was never going to let this day pass without showing my appreciation for all of you…and on that note…"

He knew he had already done Marie's, something she clearly recognised with his tone as he moved across the line and reached towards the bag. Checking the note and nodding to himself before picking up the small red paper parcel and pacing back to the Rider, reaching across he handed it to her.

"Happy Valentines day, Marie." He paused for a moment, then spoke again. "J'espere qué c'est amusant."

He hoped the pronunciation was good.

The perfectly blank face from Marie gives him a momentary pause, a twitch of embarrassment flutters through him as he considers he might have messed it up.

He spent a while practising a couple pleasant sayings in different languages for these moments.

In the next instant, Marie is all but lunging for him, for a brief second he thinks she's going for the biscuit bag.

He barely registers her hands going right past the valentine's day present before they've secured themselves around his collar. With a feat of strength that reminded him the Queen was still a Servant, she tugged him forwards with a single powerful movement.

Her lips crashed into his own for a few instants, his mind froze and his eyes remained wide.

When she pulled back with an explosive sigh, she released him and allowed him to stumble away, but not before she removed the present from his hands and clutched it close to her chest as if it was a delicate treasure, a smile still showing on her face as she gave a melodic giggle.

"Thank you!" She cooed and then turned and skipped away, only to pause a moment later and turn back to him. "Oh! And you're both invited to a dance! Don't worry, you'll be getting your invitations soon! Make sure you dress, I'll be taking you and Olga dancing!"

He barely registered the words, remaining frozen as the Queen gave a single wave and darted out of the room with her prize.

It was not until Siegward clapped him on the shoulder that he was jerked back into the realm of conscious thought.

"Mmmmmh. I have to say, I saw that coming."

Ritsuka didn't.

But with the benefit of hindsight, he really should have.

"...The French are really…" Ritsuka paused, searching for the right word before finding it. "Intimate."

"...Are you expecting everyone to react as such?"

Ritsuka paused for a moment, then squinted.

A second later, he let out a loud bark of laughter. "I should think not! I don't see the Director getting into that sort of mood! Hahaha!"

The two shared a brief chuckle over that.

"...So, are you going to the dance?"

Siegward shot him a curious look and let out a long and ponderous hum. "I cannot see myself being a particularly good dancer…though I shall arrive for the good cheer of it, if nothing else."

Ritsuka hummed and nodded his head. "I'll find something to dress…Could go to see Medea, actually…"

"Medea?" The surprise in Siegward's voice was tangible. "She has a talent for such a thing? I'm rather shocked, but not unpleasantly so. Of all the hobbies I saw in her, that was perhaps the one that best suited her."

With a raised brow at the comment, he wondered why the knight had thought something like that.

But Siegward was still smiling over it, for some reason.

"I'll be sure to ask her when I stop by to give her the biscuits." He replied, turning back and grabbing the pen once more.

With the next name already written down, this one styled into the shape of fish.

Because he got the feeling Nudd would appreciate those.

---

"Do you think it is possible for us Servants to get conditions even after death?"

Blackbeard shot a sour look towards David at the comment, his own hand wrapped around his wrist where it still ached from all the writing he had been doing. "Don't joke about that, man. Okita 'Daishouri' Souji is still hacking up blood whenever no one is looking."

With a bemused look, the Archer hummed and then nodded his head. "Well, we can consider such a thing to be nothing more than a worthwhile price for such a display of good favour. I, for one, consider this to be quite the success."

The scowl on his face grew a little deeper.

"You did, like, barely a third of them!"

David looked shocked by the accusation. "I provided you with some rather heartfelt moral support and played a fine tune. After all, a motivated workforce is an efficient workforce. I can tell you now that without my help, we would probably have taken even longer to finish all of these cards."

His eye twitched. "It would have gone faster if you actually did something."

David's reply was cut off by a low grunt.

Havel slowly turned around from leading them, looming over Blackbeard ever so slightly.

"I. Liked. The. Song."

Blackbeard took a few brief moments to consider the situation and how healthy this would be for his spine if he disagreed with the Berserker in front of him.

The man famous for killing dragons with his bare hands.

Dragons made of solid stone.

And was also wielding the tooth of said dragons like a club.

He decided to put on a wide smile and eagerly nod his head up and down. "On second thought, it was a lovely tune. Couldn't agree more. In fact, I feel like I could write another hundred cards if that guy played another song."

Shooting his elbow out, he struck the Angel on his right with a light thrust. "Don't you agree with me, Sammy?"

For the first time, Sammy was silent.

Well, he was always silent.

But this was silent, silent.

Throwing a sour look at the Angel, he turned back to Havel and wore a smile once again.

With a grunt, the Berserker turned back around and approached the door, hand moving into the bag of cards they had all drafted up, sorting through all of them for a few seconds before pulling out the one which belonged to the owner of said room.

Lowering himself, he placed the card on the ground and then rose back up, moving off to the next door.

Privately curious, Blackbeard moved forwards and looked down at the card.

It had been for one of the recent arrivals, he didn't know the guys name because he was…well…a guy.

Some dude in white who looked like a cliche scientist.

Blackbeard felt his lips thin as he stared words on the envelope.

'To Sorcerer Scum.'

He threw an incredulous look towards the back of the moving Berserker, then turned his head towards David and pointed down to the ground.

"What the hell? I thought you said you were watching him."

David blinked, then nodded his head. "I was, yes."

His brows rose up his forehead.

D-did this guy not see the problem?

"You watched him write that?"

Shockingly enough, David nodded his head. "It was much better than the previous ones, which I shall admit, were involving words and phrases that should not be uttered in polite company. Especially if we are considering the day to be a celebration."

With a singular blink levied at David, Blackbeard let slip the question that sprung to the front of his mind. "Was he telling people to kill themselves?"

The silence was staggering.

He felt his brows climb higher as his lips were sucked further into his face. "What…?"

David coughed. "That was just for a couple of individuals he had personal problems with, I assure you. Not all of them were as colourful or blunt as that…though the contents were hardly charming either."

Blackbeard dropped his shoulders. "...Did he write anything nice?"

The Archer made a face, then cupped his chin. "They were positive if looked at through a certain lens…I believe one of them, I was able to convince him not to write it, merely said that he was sure at least one soul in Hell loved them-"

A cough rippled through the Rider, shock and mirth mixed together.

The sheer audacity to write something like that was almost amusing, but then came the realisation that those were fighting words and would end up reflected on him as well.

He didn't want to be on the potential shit list of a Caster.

He only had E rank magic resistance, damn it.

Blackbeard raised his hands up, pressing them against his forehead.

"...Why didn't you just write the cards for him?"

David only chuckled. "He seemed to be having a merry time and there were quite a few messages that were positively charming. Truly, I was surprised at how poetic some of his words were…let me see…"

Raising his hand, the Archer tapped a finger on his chin, trying to summon the memories.

But all Blackbeard could do was stare in a mixture of shock and incredulity.

Why did this guy even think to let a known mage hater write messages for the mages?!

"Ah-ha!" With a faint cough, David reached out a hand and shifted his expression to something more hammy. "To you, a sanctuary of tranquillity in the sea of life's woes, may your soul never be tarnished by the troubles that we might face."

Blackbeard blinked.

With a straight back, he stared into the eyes of the Archer and searched for any sign of mirth or joking.

There was nothing but sincerity.

"...What?" He sputtered. "Who did he write that to?"

David inclined his head, lowering his hands to his hips. "It was a private message, I'm hardly going to let that much information slip."

"...I'm never going to invite you to help me again."

Another blink. "That's a touch harsh. I thought I lended quite a capable hand to your conundrum."

"You've lended me a loaded flintlock and painted a target on my face."

"Colourful. It seems there are many poets in our little group."

---

Light pulsed and flashed.

The empty field rippled with movement as a pair emerged from a single ray of luminescence, just as swiftly as it had appeared, it promptly vanished and left them alone, with only the moonlight shining above them to illuminate their forms.

Berserker stepped forwards first, coming to a halt and gazing across the fields.

Olga was behind him, watching him pace a few steps from her before he went still.

France.

It was a minute Singularity that had been discovered and, sure enough, Romani had confirmed that it would be gone soon. The sort that would be naturally solved by the world without their need for intervention.

She was, however, privately curious why Romani had even been awake, but it had only lasted until she realised that Berserker had somehow managed to win over the aid of the doctor for whatever this was.

…It begged the question if the doctor had somehow established a better relationship with her Servant than she had.

So lost in her thoughts was she, that Olga very nearly missed the words that slipped from Berserker's mouth.

It would have been easy to do so, for how gentle they were.

Almost as light as the cool breeze which hummed around them.

"This is where Chaldea first met the dragons, was it not?"

She straightened and nodded her head, not that he could see her with his back to him. A low hum of affirmation slipped out of her.

Berserker turned his head and looked up at the sky.

"I…understand how humans see them." He continued onwards. "I did not before, but I do now. I know what I looked like to them…As the Gods looked to me."

Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

There was a phantom weight that settled on her tongue, keeping it still.

An urge - a need - to hear what Berserker had to say before she could even think to offer anything else sat within her.

"And you…All of you." The blonde turned, but not to face her. Instead his gaze swept over the grassy knolls and focused on a sight in the distance. "This was the first sight that greeted you. Dragons, wyverns…animals, really. They destroyed and murdered, butchered and broke…because that is what this…'Dragon Witch' saw them as. Tools for vengeance. I get it, though."

He shrugged.

"It is easy. There's a satisfaction in breaking something. Especially if you don't like it so…"

An exhale.

"At first I was mad, then I stopped and thought. We're good at breaking things. We have always been good at breaking things. We probably always will be as well, but that is not all that I wanted to be…"

Armour creaked, his right hand came up.

Sharpened fingers curled into a fist, held so tight that the metal groaned as it was pressed tight against itself.

"...I did not want to be seen as that. I wanted us to be seen as more than that. I don't think I will ever change how people look at us, though. I tried and I failed."

Berserker shifted on his heels, body turned side on and his eye fell upon her. From the very corner, he shot her a sideways glance.

"I did not tell you my name because it just wasn't worth knowing. I was good at breaking things so that was all I needed to be for you. Someone who breaks things but I…I tried to be like that but I…I couldn't."

Slowly, his eyelids fell.

"I could not let go of it. Maybe the others knew, maybe they just wanted me to be better but it does not matter now. It was not fair to you…you or anyone in Chaldea. Who looked at me and saw more than a monster who smashed things, who destroyed homes. You looked at my goal and said it was…it was something."

Berserker fully faced her.

His face gentle, a smile on his lips that was perhaps the purest form of one that could exist.

"...You showed me something I cannot repay. In this world of disparity, you showed me equality. So it was rude…insulting to you, that I did not return the favour before today. I'm not good at explaining things, actually."

A brief chuckle, almost abashed, and Berserker brought up his left hand and pressed it against the back of his neck. The sound of claws running through hair filled the silence as the Berserker scratched his nape.

"What I'm trying to say is that…"

His eyes closed.

"...What I want to say is thank you…"

He stepped backwards, putting further distance between the two of them.

"And I want to show you what you showed me. Everything you were was put on display. So against my rival…my equal…My sister. I should have showed it to you, even if I didn't think it was as good as yours."

She knew his name.

She knew who this was.

Her lips parted ever so slightly, eyes widened and she cursed herself for not seeing it before.

"You-" Her words died on her lips, even if she had more, Berserk-...No.

Kalameet, raised a hand and shook his head, indicating that he was not done.

"Even if it isn't much. Even if I cannot show you the stars as you showed them to me. I can at least show you the skies that my people ruled."

He took a deep breath and lowered his arm.

Then his voice came back, full of strength and each word delivered with power that took on a weight in the air.

"Ours is the legend from before the Dawn. Ours is the legacy older than time. Ours is the shadow which blots the land. Ours is the final whisper from the ageless fog. Upon disparity, upon flame…Witness our shadow on all that stood on our foundations."

His eyes snapped open as air rippled around his body.

"Living Calamity."

And then it split.

The air crackled and burst, it washed over her like a tidal wave of presence.

It was as though hands had gripped her and held her in place, with eyes unblinking she watched the human shape of Kalameet vanish in a singular flash of light and shadow. Flames spilled from the dark mass and bubbled, twisting and turning as the sound of crumbling stone and sound of dry snapping wood drummed through her ears.

The flames, mustard yellow and laced with pure obsidian, climbed higher and higher before they held themselves still.

A singular pulse fell across the air, rushing outwards and parting the flames.

He loomed over her, from blotting out the moon behind his head.

The diamond shaped eye mounted on the arrow headed skull focused on her with gentleness which was daunting.

The earth shuddered as great steps brought the posture of the dragon to its height.

Tar black scales that melted into the midnight backdrop, offset by the bone white protrusions that jutted along the back of the neck and ran down the spine and out of sight.

Kalameet slowly lowered his head towards her, she stumbled for a moment but remained upright despite what every logical part of her was screaming about this situation.

Utterly rooted to the ground, she could only stare in shock as the dragon placed it's neck flat against the ground and bore it to her.

For moments, she stared without understanding.

Then it dawned on her and she turned her eyes to the dragon's own, searching for confirmation.

Kalameet looked back in silence, but when she met his gaze, she knew what it was he wanted.

Olga stepped forwards, movements slow and hesitant but with each one, she found herself gaining a little bit more strength.

Her hand reached out, the scales of the dragon seemed a million miles away.

And yet, within a few short moments, she felt the roughness against her palms.

It was a texture like sandpaper, yet she found herself unwilling to pull her hand away from it.

There was a sweeping noise, air being shoved aside and a thud which travelled through the ground and into her body. She turned her head after a few seconds and looked at the wing which had been lowered to the ground in such a perfect position that it was almost like a ramp leading up to the back of the dragon.

Olga felt her eyes widen, she turned her head back and looked down.

Kalameet stared back in silence, he did not even use the mental link.

She should have been content with it, but then she thought of everything.

And she thought of what this meant.

She was not sure what compelled her, but she slowly nodded her head and without a single noise, she moved purely on instinct. Clambering up the wing, it was easier than she imagined it would have been, and then finding a decently sized gap between the jutting vertebrate.

Shuffling into the spot, she reached out and took a firm hold on the spines, parted at such an angle that she was provided a clear view of everything in front of her.

Her body shook as Kalameet shuffled about, rising up and standing upon all fours.

His neck turned, giving him a view enough to look down at her.

When she caught movement in both corners of her eyes, Olga slowly turned her head left and right. Watching the great wings extend outwards as far as they would seemingly go. Membrane stretched to the furthest point, muscles tenses and bulged. She could see the raw strength and feel it channel through the dragon in that very moment.

Kalameet turned his head away from her and stared at the front.

He moved forwards, slow and lumbering steps at first, each one sent a shudder through her body.

It was hardly a comfortable feeling, but she was sitting upon scale and bone.

Yet she did not complain openly, instead she sat in what she could only describe as muted resignation.

Then Kalameet picked up the pace, the slow steps quickened and the scenery moved a touch faster. The wings started to rise and fall, only mere inches at first and then it turned to feet. Pushing up and down with increasing frequency, she could feel the moment before Kalameet took off.

Everything around her seemed to freeze.

A perfect moment of stillness.

Olga found that she could not even breathe.

Then the world exploded, she felt the wind slap against her face and shove into her chest, she was pushed back and her eyes snapped shut. The howl of movement around her was drowned by the heavy beats of the dragon's wings, a sound like deep drumming with each flap of the powerful limbs.

She kept her eyes closed through all of it, not daring to open them.

And then, just as swiftly as it started, the sensation was over.

The stillness returned, the breeze against her face was akin to a gentle kiss.

The wingbeats sounded less fierce, slowly their sound turned to a welcome companion for her ears, there was a consistent pattern in them which provided her with a comfort. A feeling of security as well.

Slowly, her eyes cracked open.

Nothing came to mind.

There were no words to describe it.

Bathed in the light of the moon and under the stars, Olga sat upon the back of Kalameet as soared through the sky.

She did not even believe they were flying until she dared to look down, just as quickly she found her eyes twisting back to the night sky, the deep black above with a trillion points of light painted across its infinite depth.

The moon hung in the distance, watching over them in silent vigil.

Olga said nothing, there was nothing to say.

For a brief moment, she let herself forget everything.

"It's beautiful…"

The words slipped out without her meaning to do so.

But it was accurate.

A response came from ahead of her, the unmistakable voice of Kalameet with that same gentleness in him, even though his words came from the tongue of a creature dozens of metres long.

"It truly is, is it not? You brought the stars to the ground…So let me return this one back to the sky."

It was a line she would have laughed at any other day.

Perhaps to anyone else too, she would have shown annoyance.

Instead she just nodded her head.

She took in a short breath.

"Kalameet."

"...Mmmmh?"

"...Thank you."

"...Happy Valentines day, sister."

…If Ritsuka were here, she knew he would be grinning from ear to ear.

Probably because it was an expression that would mirror her own.

---

He smiled easily as he stared at the screen, then reached over and turned the audio off.

Adjusting himself, he leaned back and fell into the chair.

Keeping reading on the measurements in case anything did happen, he left the emergency channel open, but he wasn't going to eavesdrop on something like this.

"You let her go."

"Gah!?"

A shout tore its way through his throat, swiftly rising to his feet, he turned around and sent a wide eyed panicked look towards the direction of the sudden speaker. He did not relax when he saw them, looming through the doorway, eyes hidden behind a pair of shades.

Yet even with them concealed, the glow of the iris shone through, giving an eerie look about them.

His heart remained at a rapid pace, but slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

"...You're up early."

Earlier than he would have liked, is what he meant to say.

Chrysaor said nothing, not at first. She instead gave him a deadpan look from beyond her sunglasses, stepping fully through the doorway and sauntering towards him.

There was a slowness in her gait, something that reminded him of a cat stalking a mouse.

He knew which of the two he was in this equation.

"I wake whenever I please." She answered his question with a quiet grunt, tearing her eyes from him and focusing on the screen at his side. Her gaze lingered for a few seconds longer than he would have assumed.

Romani could feel the silent judgement.

"You have not answered my question."

He blinked, then nodded his head. "I did, yeah. Though it was never up to me if she goes or not."

Chrysaor turned towards him. "She went alone."

"Not alone." He corrected, though it was more out of confusion. His head turned, a brow raised itself. "She had-"

"She had the dragon with her." Chrysaor stated, confirming that she was similarly aware as to the nature of Berserker. "You let her go alone with him. I thought you were supposed to keep her safe?"

"Safe from-?" He paused, then straightened.

It occurred to him what she meant, his expression turned briefly incredulous as he shot a glance between the Saber and the screen, twice he turned and twice he found himself unable to come up with a reason for this.

"She's in no danger from him."

Chrysaor looked, then made a small noise. "Oh. He owns her then."

"That…" He moved to correct her, then thought better of it.

If there was one thing that he managed to glean from Chrysaor, it was that they did not think in human terms.

"...They're in the same pack."

Another pregnant pause, then a quiet. "Mmmh."

Romani felt the silence more acutely than the Saber, of that he was certain. Having her in the room made the air heavier, he was afraid to breathe too loudly, in case she took offence to that.

It might have been his own natural fear though.

His previous interactions had been strange.

If he were to call it something, he would have said she was projecting the image of someone else over him.

"Why?"

Romani turned his head once more, flinching and fighting back a gasp of alarm as Chrysaor had someone come up right beside him without even realising that she had moved. If she noticed his immediate unease, she did not comment or even acknowledged it.

He gulped back his fear, then answered her slowly. "Why what?"

"Why not you?" She turned on him, a sharpness in those glowing pupils.

Romani paused, considering her question. Then shrugged. "I'm not really what she needs. I can't help her like the others can but…I can give them what they need to be in a position to help."

"You are both human." Chrysaor stated. "You are a healer."

He nodded along. "Yeah, but not that sort of healer. I could fix up any cut or bruise she got, mend the odd broken bone, but what she needs is a type of help I could never give her."

"...You care for her though."

"...I do." He nodded once more. "I was a friend to her father and…"

Trailing off, Romani found himself unsure what to say.

He did like Marisbury, he considered him a friend despite what had happened and everything that transpired.

He was friends with the man because he owed him quite a bit.

But just because they were friends, did not mean there weren't things Romani didn't agree with.

"Olga needs her own pack, she needs a pack she can rely on and I'm not really that sort of person. I can at least spot the people who will help her, but I can't manage that because it's just not what I am capable of."

Chrysaor straightened, peering down at him for what felt like hours.

"Hmph." She turned away without another word, pacing towards the door.

"Happy Valentines day, by the way."

She stopped, then turned. "...Why tell me that?"

Romani shrugged. "I am still a healer, I'm supposed to be indifferent. Besides…I can still hope that you have an alright time today, even if you probably aren't going to be caught dancing anywhere."

The Saber thinned her lips. "...No. I am not making an effort to find a mate."

He sputtered for a moment, then realised he should have thought about. "N-Not what I meant, but I figured you might go with Hanleth-"

Chrysaor was looking at him. "...Why?"

"...No reason…j-just that you two got along really well?"

She stared at him for a moment longer.

Then turned and left, departing in silence.

Romani allowed himself to relax only when he felt as though a comfortable amount of time had passed to let the Saber get a good distance from him.

Naturally, that wasn't until three full minutes later.

---

His knocks on the door were swiftly answered.

Medea stepped forwards, unable to get so much as a single word out before he thrust the crimson paper bag towards her and smiled.

"Happy Valentine's day!"

What Ritsuka was expecting was a reaction of some sorts, what he did not expect was for the Caster to recoil away from him as if he had just set something on fire in her face. His smile faltered a little as he stared at the wide eyed expression and slightly agape mouth.

"Uhh…sorry if I was a little loud." He didn't have a watch to check, but knew it was early. A wince as he watched the woman raise her hand and rub the side of her head, nursing a possible headache with her eyes closed.

"That is hardly the problem."

He froze at the tone, it was one that he recognised.

It was the same time of one the Director would use if he had done or said something troublesome.

Lips rolled inwards and his throat suddenly felt quite dry, as Medea pulled her hand away from her temples, she fixed him with a rather exasperated look. Eyes flickering between the bag in his hands and his face.

"I did not know that you could muster up such free time as to embark on such childish efforts."

Taking the bag from his hand, she then pulled it open and looked inside. Raising a brow and giving a low hum.

"And with time enough to make them specially made in the image of my staff? Crude, but you were working off memory, weren't you…"

His arms dropped to his side, expression remaining fixed as he suddenly felt quite small.

"W-well…it's uh…" His words trailed off as her eyes came up and locked onto his own, the expectant look threw him off as he stumbled for an answer. "It's Valentines day and…uhm…I just wanted to give you something for all the help and…uh…"

"Are your duties as a Master so few and far between that you manage this for all your Servants?"

"Well, no but-"

"Ah, so you decided to exhaust yourself in the hours where you should be resting then?"

"...That is…uhm…" With each sentence, it felt like she was driving an invisible knife deeper and deeper into him. Everything she was saying was factually correct, but he didn't think that made it right. "I didn't want the day to go by without doing something so…I hope you enjoy them."

It was a lame finish to a rather awkward conversation.

Medea merely raised a brow and frowned. "So you are off to every other Servant and person in Chaldea then? It is a wonder you will be able to find the time to rest."

Ritsuka shrugged his shoulders. "It's just something I wanted to do and-"

He paused when he noticed something, something that was out of place with the image that the Caster was presenting. It was a small tremble in the upper lips, combined with the faint gleam in the eyes. He suddenly felt as though pieces of a puzzle were snapping into place in front of him.

The worry which had been slowly building a home in his gut was abruptly turned on its head, now replaced with a tinge of exasperation, but also some small amusement.

"...You're teasing me, aren't you?"

Medea's lips shifted into a small, but noticeable, smile. "Now whatever would give you that impression, Master?"

A drawn out sigh escaped him, his shoulders dropped down and his head shook from side to side. "I felt like I was going to fall into the floor there, you had me worried."

"Mmmmh. I could tell." The Caster replied with the amusement now replacing the once chiding tone of voice. "I thought it was quite cute to watch you fumble around to defend yourself. I am aware of the nature of today and hardly expected you to let it pass without some manner of acknowledgement…"

She trailed off, then reached in and took out one of the biscuits, giving it a brief once over with an odd look in her eyes.

"Though I was not expecting this level of personal attention."

This time, his tired expression wasn't a result of her. "You were sort of spot on with the free time thing…I was up most of the night with Siegward getting them all done. Well…He helped prepare all the ingredients and I was just mixing them all together and putting them in the oven."

"Even then, it was clearly quite a while." Medea hummed to herself, then took a small bite out of them and leaned back, raising a brow as her jaw worked. The small sample elicited a faint hum from the Caster, her eyes roamed back towards him. "For one who made batches of great quantity, the quality is rather amicable."

He felt a bit of heat in his neck, raising a hand and rubbing his nape. "I dabbled a little before coming to Chaldea but that was always here and there. Never really something of this scale but I'm glad to hear that it worked out alright."

"I would say that you've encountered quite a bit of luck in that regard."

He doubted it had anything to do with Caffrey, but he could not dismiss the possibility.

"Oh? And what's this?"

Medea turned her eyes to the small message he had written on the side, placing the biscuit back in the back and twisting the small paper note over to give it a silent read.

It was difficult to read her expression, but the way it softened told him that she did appreciate it.

"Should I be worried about your silver tongue, Master?" She looked at him with a raised brow. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

His face felt like it was on fire, he tried to open his mouth to give some sort of response.

All he could manage was a dry wheeze.

Swiftly, his hands came up and waved from side to side, dismissing the idea even if he was sure the Caster was only teasing him.

"N-no! That isn't…" The heat started to leave, his arms fell back down and a groan bubbled in the back of his throat. "Really?"

"You should blame yourself for reacting so strongly." Medea responded, wholly unapologetic. "You were the one who contracted with a witch, you understand what you are in for if you do something such as that."

Ritsuka grunted and folded his arms. "Yes, what a fool I have been."

His voice was dry, but changed as he turned the topic to the secondary reason he had come.

"By the way, there is a valentine's dance coming up."

Medea raised her brows and blinked. "I was merely jesting when I asked if you were trying to seduce me-"

"No, no! That isn't-" He rubbed his temples. "I mean…I was wondering if I could have something to wear."

The expression on the face of the witch changed, her eyes squinted. "You have certainly left it rather late…but fortunately for you, such meagre time constraints are nothing to me. I believe this serves as a suitable commission…and is this a suit or something else?"

He debated.

Then internally said 'what the hell?' and went ahead.

"Something else."

Medea's lips curled into a faint smile. "Then if it is what my Master asks, I can spare the time."

---

Verndari felt her hands quite clammy.

It was far more nerve wracking than she would have ever previously experienced. For more reasons than before, she found herself glad that she wore a helmet to hide away her face.

It would have stopped anyone from seeing how tense her expression was, the sort that one would have worn if they were going into battle.

Perhaps this was the same sort of experience, at least for how heavy her heart was pounding away in her chest.

A rattle had followed her as she walked, only now did she finally turn her eyes down and see that it was the sword held in her left hand, clattering up and down with each step she took. A frown formed on her lips, her right hand moved across and pushed the hilt into the sheath, the rattle fell silent.

It made the beating of her heart all the louder.

The path to Gareth's room was one she knew off the top of her head, but she had only just become self-conscious of that.

The real question was why?

Why was it that she was so aware or so nervous? This was nothing more than her looking out for an ally - dare she say, a friend - so there was no true reason that she would have experienced this level of unease or worry.

It was an unpleasant feeling, she realised.

Because all she could think of now was whether Gareth would even appreciate it.

Any other day she could have gotten a sword, but this was some manner of holiday related to the passage of food. Something that Verndari could not do, this was the best she could manage on such short notice and she knew that being allowed to cook in full plate armour would never be allowed.

So she made a choice between exposing her secret, and doing something beyond the norm.

It was little surprise what choice she had made, doing what was expected was never something she was very good at in the first place. Her mere existence as a knight was proof enough of that.

Verndari noticed that she had stopped moving, having done so without even noticing.

Her head came up and blinked, she found herself staring at the smooth surface of Gareth's door. Twisting her head left and right, she realised that she had lost herself so completely in her thoughts, that she had landed right where she wanted to be.

She swallowed, her throat forced whatever unease she still held down her gullet.

It sank like lead in her gut.

Pulling her hand away from the sword, she moved it up and curled her hand into a fist.

The rapping of her knuckles on polished metal echoed like thunder in the halls, now feeling more like a cage pushing her forwards.

She cursed herself for feeling like this, a weakness in her gut which made her feel ill. Every time she thought of Gareth's face now, all she could feel was that queasy boiling in her chest. Her heart hammering like she was riding to a battle, the nervous twitch of her hand seeking a sword, something she was comfortable with.

She knew what it might have been.

Or subconsciously, she did.

But she squashed that possibility.

It couldn't be that because that was the sort of emotion of…weaker women.

The maidens that she had distanced herself from, the emotional sort who were better off tending homes.

Not like her.

Not like Gareth either.

When the door opened, it was both a comfort and a sudden dread.

Whatever she wanted to say caught in her throat when she looked down at Gareth, the weight held her tongue still, even as the Lancer gave a blink of surprise before giving a welcoming smile.

"Hey, Verndari. Wow, you're here pretty early huh?" Her eyes lowered down onto what was held in the visitors hands. "That's a new sword."

Verndari jolted back into movement, the words gripped her and pulled her back into a response.

"Y-yes. I worked on it these last few days." Looking down, she held it up in her left hand, sheathe and all, and turned it back and forth, letting the Lancer look over the short blade so that she missed nothing. "Under the supervision of Andre, the smith was a decent teacher."

"It looks good." Gareth leaned forwards, hands on her hips and letting out an intrigued hum. "Shorter than your other sword, but it's always good to have an offhand weapon. Just in case you lose the other one…or need to use something else. Sometimes my spear is a bit awkward in close quarters."

Verndari was relieved to hear of the approval.

"That is…why I made it." She responded slowly, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she slowly pushed the sword towards the Lancer. "Do you…want to hold it?"

"Can I?" Gareth's smile widened before she reached out, delicately taking the sword from Verndari's grasp and into her own. With a smooth, practised movement, she unsheathed the sword and held it up before her face. Around the length of a forearm, it was shorter than a longsword and made for close quarters.

Gareth gave a singular hum, then stepped out into the hallways and gave a few practice swings of the weapon, nodded once more, then stepped back and looked at Verndari.

"That's a pretty good sword. I'm not really much of a smith, but it's good."

"I am…" Verndari swallowed thickly once more. "Glad you approve."

Handing the sheath to the Lancer, she took it with a confused blink.

"...Happy Valentines Day, Gareth."

Gareth stared, then blinked.

Then blinked again.

Her eyes slowly turned to the sword and sheath held in each hand, then towards Verndari, then back to the sword and sheath.

"...Eh?"

"I will…be…on my way." Verndari started to back away, for some reason, she didn't want to be around for the reaction.

The feelings from before had gotten stronger, turning on her heel and marching away, it was all she could do to not break into a sprint down the hallway.

The hammering in her heart never stopped.

"Wha-!?" The shout of Gareth echoed behind her. "Wait, Verndari! Come back!"

She did not.

Spirit form was like a blanket for her, she slipped from view and away. Ignoring the shouts of Gareth demanding she return.

Even as she fled, because that was what she was doing, she felt the shame rise up that was just as bad as when she was stood before the Lancer.

She had never felt like that before.

And she didn't want to feel like that again.

---

Neither of them said anything.

There was no sound in the room save for the small patter of feet on the table, the furred paws of the white animal pacing back and forth across the table. Eyes narrowed and occasionally leaning forwards to take a quick sniff of the air.

It was completed.

"...I think it looks quite pretty."

Surprisingly simple words from someone like Da Vinci, he had privately expected her to open with a drawn out monologue about the ceramic tea set and how intricate it all was.

Instead she had spoken those simple words, he was unsure if that was better or worse. The analysis would have likely gone far above his ability to understand, yet having her speak such short words sounded pandering. Like she was trying to spare feelings that did not exist.

He turned his head, looking at her with an unblinking gaze and focused his eyes.

Her expression betrayed nothing, or nothing that he could see. Lips curled into a gentle smile, eyes aglow with distracted interest. The same expression she nearly always had on her face whenever he saw her.

If he was to speak honestly, he was not sure if she was even in the room with them. She might have just as easily been away in the furthest corners of her mind and working on a dozen other projects, gracing him only with those simple words because she was busy contemplating something else. Speaking only on reflex to give him something - some thin acknowledgement - before she carried on with much more important concerns.

Maybe that was better, came the small voice in the back of his head.

He could almost feel the dismissive shrug the voice followed with.

His concerns were so small, so meagre, when compared with the state of Chaldea as a whole and to demand the attention of someone like Da Vinci for something as pitiful as a tea set that he had slaved away to perfect over the course of several days was laughable. Or it would be, if he had the capacity for something like that.

Ash turned, eyes pulled away from the Caster and back towards the tea set, now he met the eyes of Fou.

The small white animal had been present in the room for the majority of the time, he knew that purely because he had felt those small beady eyes on him. From the moment they entered the room, even when they closed their eyes and fell into a slumber, there was not a single instance in which the animal had not had its focus upon him.

Ash couldn't quite explain how he knew, nothing more than a strange gut feeling, a small cautionary twitch in his arms which would have felt more comfortable if they had ease of access to a blade or a weapon.

He had once diverted his attention between Fou and himself.

The animal had watched him without blinking for hours, neither of them had done so.

Now Fou was moving again, acting as it did whenever under the gaze of someone beyond himself. Curious whimpers and small mewls to attract the eye, even twisting and plodding over to Da Vinci, who had absently ran her fingers through his fur, before pacing back to the spot where they now resided.

"So when are you going to give them to her?"

The words of Da Vinci hung in the air without reply, seconds ticked past before he eventually mustered up the desire to actually give her a response.

"...I'll package them up. Place them in front of her room."

At once, he felt an acute look pressed up against the side of his face.

He did not need to turn his head to know that he was being stared at, he could imagine the expression. One of shock, he assumed, or surprise. Perhaps even some incredulity or questioning.

Ash did not turn to Da Vinci, instead he stepped forwards and reached out, gently taking the ceramic into his hands and with the utmost care, lifted it from the table. He was surprised with how light they were. He thought they would have been heavier now, but they remained almost weightless to him.

As if they were not even there to begin with, as if the slightest twitch - the barest hint of tension - and they would turn to dust in his fingers.

They probably would, given his strength.

"I thought you were going to give them in person?"

He had intended to, but the words of Ritsuka had come back to haunt him in a different way.

Ritsuka had been well meaning, but there was something foreboding about it. The notion that when he did get his answer, it would be one he didn't want.

What if, when he stared into the face of Nobunaga, he felt absolutely nothing?

What if, after working for days on those gifts for the Archer, he looked at her gratitude and felt utterly empty?

What would that mean for him?

He decided that his current state was preferable, at least it would leave him with some measure of understanding. It would remain unanswered and that way, he could always try to believe that it would be a change. But if he received the answer, then it would be locked in place and he would know, without a shadow of doubt.

"...I do not need to be there for that." He answered, giving away no indication of his inner turmoil.

"That is a matter of perspective."

It wasn't, not to him.

He did not reply, giving not even a grunt, as he continued to move. Placing the set into his bottomless box without pause. Yet it was only when he moved for the final cup, that Fou sprang into action.

Pouncing, the creature bound into the space before the cup, placing themselves down between his hand and his target, then with an upturned snout, they glared at him with all the strength they could muster in their tiny frame.

Ash's hand came to a grinding halt.

He briefly considered just pushing the animal out of the way, but something stopped that thought short. As if, by doing that, he would be making a mistake. There was an intelligent gleam in the eyes of the animal, looking at him and daring him to make that sort of move.

His hand pulled back and down to his side, keeping eye contact with Fou before making a sharp turn, twisting his neck and looking down at Da Vinci.

"You disapprove."

"You're not the shy sort." The woman fired back without hesitation, folding her arms and raising a brow at him. Searching his face for something, and clearly not finding what she was looking for, as the frown on her lips got decidedly more pronounced. "And after watching you day after day, you don't seem the type to leave something half done."

Half done.

The words lodged themselves into his chest like arrows.

He knew that she was right, it was expected to present the gift to someone in person, rather than leave it for them to find. He knew that.

Da Vinci was perceptive.

"...I am…unsure of the response."

She gave a questioning, if bemused, hum. "I think she would appreciate-"

"It is not Nobunaga's response that leaves me concerned."

Silence descended across the room, the brunette watched him for some quiet moments before letting out a soft "Oh."

Then she looked at him again, only this time it was far more piercing than the looks he had received before. The bright blue eyes shone, as if stripping the armour from his body and leaving him wholly exposed before her. Even his expression felt like thin paper, doing nothing to protect his real thoughts.

"...You won't know until you try."

"Maybe that's the point."

"Can you live like that?"

"I can-" He cut himself short and turned, frowning deeply.

Try.

He was going to say and they both knew it.

"Well, it is your choice." Da Vinci continued, he caught her shrug of the shoulders from the corner of his vision. "But I will say that it would be a terrible waste if you went through all of that just to not be there to see her reaction in person. Besides, she would probably track you down."

"...There is no guarantee she would know it was from me."

At those words, Da Vinci stopped and turned. Fixing him with a look as though she didn't quite believe that he had said that. There was a sort of amused disbelief in her face, like any moment now she was expecting him to reveal that he had made some sort of joke and that his previous sentence was the punchline.

Not for the first time, Ash felt foolish.

Maybe it was better to know, just to get it over and done with.

A resigned sigh and a shake of the head, clearly Da Vinci knew she had won if the upturned lip told him anything. He reached forwards, Fou shuffled aside without noise, and clasped the final cup before resting it inside his bottomless box.

Turning for the door, he moved towards it and then paused for a single moment, grunting towards the Caster.

"...Your assistance has been appreciated."

"And your company was very pleasant." Da Vinci replied without pause, then paused and chuckled. "But I will say that conversations were a little sparse, I did enjoy watching you work. Feel free to come back anytime you want."

A pause, "And that other item…were you going to leave that on his door as well?"

"He would know it was from me." Shaking his head, he stepped forwards and out of the door.

---

"Happy Valentine's day!"

The person in front of him stared, then squinted.

Blackbeard felt his own failed attempt at a smile slide clean off his face, leaving the both of them just looking at the other in complete silence. The awkward nature of what they were doing seemed to hang over their heads and in the air, it was like stepping into a friend's room and spotting a mouldy plate in the corner.

Something you could not help but feel a bit disturbed by, but hoped that keeping quiet would avoid calling attention to it.

With a pinched expression, the person reached across and slowly picked the card from the hands of the pirate, it was an agonisingly slow process, one that he hoped would end with them just tossing the card away without even reading it.

But that wasn't what happened.

Stone faced, they slipped a finger inside and pulled it apart, eyes turned from him and towards the contents, skimming through them before giving a low snort of amusement, raising their eyes and looking back at him once again.

"...I assume Havel did not deliver this in person because he would have killed me?"

Blackbeard gave a single sniff and folded his arms.

"I didn't want to give you anything."

While he would never claim to be a good man, he had done many things that would be classified as evil, but if there was one thing that even he would be utterly disgusted with, it was the person in front of him.

Armed with an oily smile, the fake priest known as Aldrich looked back.

A face so greasy and slimy that Blackbeard was certain the rain would run right over his skin and leave him bone dry.

"Well, certainly a colourful message." Aldrich mused, snapping the card closed and wearing a tightlipped smile. "Do be sure to pass along my thanks, and my appreciation to the Bishop. I'm rather impressed he could make time in his busy schedule to think of me long enough to write out a personal message."

Blackbeard wanted this conversation to be over, sooner rather than later.

"Well, I won't keep you and your collection of crewmates much longer." He stepped aside, his boots slid along the floor without a single squeak. Blackbeard managed to fight the urge to stare at the spot where the man had been standing, just in case the man had polished the floor just by standing on top of it.

"Go, spread some good cheer around Chaldea." A flourished wave and the smile turned sharper, more unsettling and leaving the pirate with an uneasy feeling like he was being sized up. The pinprick eyes and barely visible teeth in the smile reminded him of a predator just waiting for the right chance.

And given the habits of this man, there was a good chance that was exactly it.

"Sure, whatever."

He grunted back, sounding more confident than he probably felt.

Stepping past the shorter man and marching down the hallway, relying solely on those behind him to keep watch on the man and, if necessary, to act as a shield to allow him to escape.

The feeling of being watched never quite left him as he walked down the hallways, it was all he could do to not swing around and walk backwards. His back felt open, exposed. Like any moment he would feel a sharp pain in it and it would be revealed that the man had sunk a knife into him.

The pain never came, but the sensation didn't leave.

It was only after a solid minute of walking that he eventually let himself relax, his shoulders dropped and he turned to face the people behind him, looking between David and Sammy with a frown on his lips.

"...Did we have to give that guy something?"

David, for once, wasn't smiling.

Instead he had a decidedly blank expression as he replied, and with a voice that was worryingly empty. "It would be impolite to exclude certain individuals from the festivities because of personal problems."

A safe answer, Blackbeard thought.

With his words, he said "Yeah, but the guy is definitely a scumbag. Low as they come."

To that, David did smile, but it was a rather empty one. "Most assuredly. But it is important to make efforts, meagre as they might be, to form some manner of repertoire…after all. If something does transpire…it will not be I who swung the first blow."

Suddenly it made sense why David had pressed the issue.

He was covering himself in the eventuality of the man acting scummy.

It was surprisingly more aware than Blackbeard had considered. Protecting oneself with society.

Maybe he had underestimated David.

"Now then, let us be on our way." The smile turned a bit more cheerful, David clapped his hands, the noise echoed around them. "I want to see who our silent friend here has been writing his cards to as well."

Blackbeard blinked, then turned on Sammy and squinted. "Yeah. You never showed me any of those. Don't tell me…are you writing out a confession?"

Sammy turned a blank, endless gaze upon him. Even without a face, the ominous void that served as an expression somehow managed to convey a sense of tired exhaustion. Just as quickly, the Angel turned away from him and floated forwards, moving right past the pair and down the corridor.

Blackbeard and David exchanged a glance.

Then the pirate gave a teasing grin. "That didn't sound like a denial!"

To which, David could only respond with a slightly bemused. "It didn't sound like much of anything."

---

News of a Valentine's dance spread across Chaldea like wildfire.

Mash found herself a little surprised by just how unsurprising the news actually was. Yet, given the track record of Chaldea's involvement with such events, it should have been a matter of when - rather than if - the Servants of Chaldea celebrated such a thing.

Though what was really something of a surprise to her was just how enthused Gwynevere actually was regarding the entire situation.

"Something with greater flair." The Goddess said, dismissing the idea of her wearing just a simple dress.

It was a decidedly better thing than when Mash had asked what the problem with her just going dressed as she normally was. That question had earned her an expression of utter shock and a pained grimace. She knew that the Goddess would not have agreed, but Mash had felt the need to ask all the same.

For that matter, she was sure that all she would be doing was just standing there.

She did not know how to dance and had never given thought towards it, at least not before today.

"Flair?"

"Yes, flair." Gwynevere responded, back turned to her and pacing across the room with arms folded behind her. "What we are looking for is something that will steal the breath of everyone who gazes upon you. Your position is first and foremost the chief defender of the boy, which means that everything must reflect that."

Mash didn't quite understand, her expression turned slightly pinched. "But what does-"

Gwynevere rounded on her before she could finish, looking down at her with patience as she strode towards her and placed hands gently upon her shoulders. A light push guided her across the room and towards the bed, lowering her down into a sitting position on it.

"Mash." The Goddess began. "I have told you that such fields are akin to battles in their own right and we must act in that manner. You stand on the frontlines, the vanguard. You want to be tall, proud, and defiant in the face of whatever obstacle is in your path, yes?"

That sounded right.

She nodded her head up and down.

Gwynevere smiled, then stepped back. "We have our answer. What we need is something that you wear which performs the same role as your mighty shield. Something that announces to the world that you are there and you are here to stay."

"Here to stay?" Mash blinked, then frowned. "Am I going somewhere?"

"Not if we act."

That implied she was going somewhere.

"But more than that." Gwynevere continued. "We want you to stand as your own character. You are not an accessory, nor are you some addition. The wrong dress will make you appear as little more than a walking bracelet for another's attire. Charming, in its own right, when outfits compliment one another…but hardly suitable for establishment of presence."

A lot of what she was hearing flew over her head, but the bits and pieces she did understand were leaving her a little puzzled, mostly lost.

"I'm…I'm not sure that I can do that." Mash found herself saying, then looked towards the Goddess and tried to explain further. "It is…I think I know what you're talking about. You mean like Nero-san and Marie-san, don't you?"

A brief pause, then a nod of the head.

"You understand they have a certain aura about them." Gwynevere confirmed. "A charm that sweeps up the crowd and a personality which shines when under the rays of the sun. It can be achieved through a variety of ways, but beauty is hardly universal. After all, it exists within the eye of the beholder and more often than not, the eyes have different tastes."

Once more, the string of words left her dazed.

But there was one thing she was certain of. "I'm…I'm not like Nero-san and Marie-san though."

She looked down at her hands. "I don't understand love or that sort of thing, Gwynevere-san."

"You will find few who truly grasp the nuances of the emotion, Mash."

The soft voice of the Goddess reached her.

"It is a complicated emotion, but…what I want is for you to show yourself to everyone, so they can see you can shine in your own way."

It sounded nice, but Mash was still unsure.

…Was it what she wanted?

She thought of being under the same sort of spotlight that the Emperor and the Queen had, even the like of Stheno and Euryale. She found it impossible to imagine. Rather, she wasn't sure if she really wanted something like that in the first place.

"What if…" It was a small murmur that she didn't realise, it trailed into nothing.

She hoped it had gone unnoticed.

Gwynevere stepped directly in front of her, then lowered herself down into a crouch and looked at her, Mash did not meet her eyes.

"...What if that isn't what you want?"

She paused, unsure how the Goddess knew exactly what she was thinking.

A soft chuckle reached her ears, Gwynevere reached across and with a gentle flick of the wrist, brushed aside the hair that covered her right side and exposed her face fully. Mash turned both eyes onto the Goddess at that, meeting the understanding face of the woman as she regarded her with a gentle smile.

"Then you need only tell me what you do want, Mash." The Goddess whispered in a quiet voice. "This is for you, not for me. I can provide only ideas, but it is for you to take the first steps. What do you want in this dance?"

What did she want?

…She didn't know.

She had never even thought of something like this before but…

"I…" She trailed off, then look to her fingers once more. Picking underneath her nails for the dirt that did not exist. Frowning as she tried to focus her thoughts. Everything that came to her told her that dances existed for people to go dancing.

Mash did not want to be centre stage or even spotlight.

She…

"...I want to have one dance."

Just one would be nice, if only so she had the chance to do it.

"...Then a dance you will have." Gwynevere smiled and rose up. "We shall find you a dress that reflects just that."

Mash turned her eyes up, then rolled her lips. "Can you…can you teach me-"

"No."

She blinked. "Eh?"

Gwynevere shook her head. "I could, but I will not."

"Wh-"

"Why?" Cutting her short, the Goddess left the air devoid of words for a moment before smiling down with some sort of knowing gleam in her eyes. "If I were to teach you to dance, then your very first would be…cold. It is for the sake of courts that one spends hours learning how to dance, for the eyes of peers and acquaintances. That is not the manner of dancing you wish to learn for this."

Mash felt herself go still. "But-"

But what if she messed up?

"This is your first dance, Mash." Gwynevere hummed. "It will be special, but it will be memorable. You might make mistakes during it, you might even look back upon it and feel embarrassment…but it will be yours. I cannot explain an experience to you, for that is what it is. An experience."

"That…" Mash winced, then rolled her jaw. "I don't understand."

"I know." The words reached her ear, soft like a gentle breeze. "But you will. A dance such as this is showing who you are…You will come to understand why I won't teach you now. If you wish to continue to dance after this, then you will find me a willing tutor, but not before."

---

Ash's hand drummed on the door, then stepped backwards.

Moments passed.

It opened up.

"Yeah, yeah-what the-!?"

Nobunaga jolted backwards with a start, of all the responses expected, that was not one of them.

Not until the Archer pointed squarely at Ash's chest.

"You're a woman again!"

Ash nodded her head. "Yes."

"Why?"

"..."

Then the Archer raised a brow, Ash would have answered her, but the sly smile that spread across her lips, the way her eyes seemed to shine with a teasing note and her hands dropped to her hips, told her that the Archer had come to the conclusion without any sort of explanation.

"Oh-ho!" A deep chuckle rippled in the back of Nobunaga's throat. "A spot of dancing? Alright, I'm looking forward to it now."

Ash said nothing, then shrugged her shoulders. "If you say so."

She had nothing more to add onto that, unsure as to why her presence would make it more or less interesting to attend. Ash certainly had no plans to go dancing, nor did she really want to go, but she had been invited - along with everyone else - and knew that her absence would be noted far more than her presence.

Oddly enough, Nobunaga never asked why she was going as a woman, rather than a man.

Maybe the Archer cared as much for the gender as Ash did, she was merely going as a woman…she did not know the reason why. Maybe it was because it would be simpler to get a dress than it would be to get a suite. Between Medea and Da Vinci, Ash assumed the two of them could make something.

"So then." Nobunaga clapped her hands. "If you're here to invite me, I will humbly accept-"

"I am not."

The Archer froze on the spot, her expression caught midway through speaking. Mouth agape before her body deflated like a Basilisk. For all of a few seconds, then her eyes bulged and shock was written clean across her face.

"Wha-!? How come!?" Demanded the smaller woman, stamping her foot hard. "Are you really going to leave me without a dance partner!? Do you know how awkward that is going to be for me when Okita shows up alone as well?! How am I supposed to rub it in the face of the manslayer if I don't have a dance partner either?"

Ash gave no thought to that.

She just looked at the Archer in near silence, then slowly moved her hand across to her hip and into her bottomless box.

Nobunaga missed the gesture completely, so caught up in her own lamentations, until Ash pulled out the wrapped up cloth.

Then she went silent, going still mid-rant and falling back into her original posture. This time, it was lacking an expression completely, being utterly hypnotised by the plain white cloth that Ash held in her hands. Then she extended it towards the Archer and lowered it into her hands when she reached out to support it.

"...Happy Valentines day." Ash said, her voice monotone.

Nobunaga lowered the bag, so that it no longer blocked their line of sight with one another, then looked between the two of them several times before eventually speaking. "...This isn't chocolate."

It was difficult to know whether that was disappointment or not.

"No." Ash confirmed. "It is not."

A strange look flickered across the face of the Archer as she stepped back, then jerked her head into the room. All but demanding that Ash follow her in. She did without much pause, stepping into the enclosed space and glancing around, aware of the rather loud hum which was missing from the other rooms.

Searching for the source revealed nothing.

"I'm situated next to the boilers."

Nobunaga's flat voice answered the unspoken question, then it came back with a twist of irritation.

"You would think that a high tech base would have silent running but guess we can't have everything."

Ash paused for a moment, looked at the back of Nobunaga's head. "Do you wish to change rooms? I would not care about the noise."

Nobunaga paused, then slowly turned around to face her, eyes alight with a desperate hope.

"Really?" The crack of the voice was alarming, Ash had not considered the room was that painful for the Archer. "You'd really swap rooms?"

"If you want."

She did not care.

With an exaggerated movement, the Archer rubbed her hands over her eyes as if flicking away tears, but her dry cheeks made the movement utterly pointless. Leaving Ash questioning why she had even bothered with it in the first place.

"What a caring retainer I have found." Then she clapped and all pretence of sadness was gone. "I can move by the end of the day."

"I do not have anything to pack and have never used the bed."

Nobunaga paused, then fixed her with an odd look. "...You just sit on the floor and look at the wall, don't you?"

Ash wondered how she knew.

Red eyes rolled, Nobunaga shook her head and turned around, muttering to herself. "Might as well just have both of us in there if you're just going to do nothing. It would be like having furniture or-"

Her voice cut short the moment she opened up the back, staring into it with an expression Ash could not see.

Seconds ticked past.

Then Nobunaga reached into the bag and slowly pulled out the first item.

The bone white tea cup, smooth surfaced and with the black symbol of the Oda clan painted onto the side of it. She held it in her hands and slowly turned it over, looking over every inch of the cup without turning to face Ash. Then, with deliberate slowness, she set it down on the bed and reached back into the bag.

One at a time, she pulled forth the three remaining ceramic cups, each one like the first in every way.

Then came the tea pot, matching with the others, the mound shaped design with a small curved handle on one side and the upwards pointing spout on the other. Like with the cups, this one had the symbol of the clan on the side, Ash had found that to have been the greatest challenge to get right.

He had spent hours practising, painting on angled surfaces.

Nobunaga sat it down, then took in a sharp breath.

She took a step backwards, still staring at the bed.

Then her voice came out, slow and quiet. "...You got me a tea set."

"...I made you a tea set, yes." Ash replied. "You had expressed an interest and I was aware you lacked one. I decided that you would get more use from this than you would get from chocolate."

"More use…?" The Archer rumbled back, then slowly turned around and faced her with a blank expression.

Ash looked back at her, then felt a small twist of something in her gut. The lack of any real reaction from Nobunaga slowly filled her with a sense of profound disappointment. Not in the gift, but in the wasted time she had spent on it when she could have done something else. Yet it was in line with what Gilgamesh had said, was it not?

Hollow efforts would appeal to no one-

Ash blinked, thoughts grinding to a halt, then slowly craned her neck down to where Nobunaga was currently pressing her face into Ash's chest. Having stepped towards her and then fully leaned into it.

Perhaps it was wise that Ash had forgone armour, otherwise this would have been more uncomfortable for the Archer.

The position the two were in remained that way for some time, at least twenty full seconds, Ash counted the drag of time and remained still. Saying and doing nothing, not until Nobunaga did something first.

She pulled away and took in a sharp breath, hands on her hip and nodding her head up and down.

"...That's…" Nobunaga moved her hand up and rubbed the underside of her eye.

Ash saw her brush away something that twinkled in the lighting, taking another sniffle but this one sounded wet.

"...Thank you."

Ash straightened. "...You are not disappointed?"

"...You could have given me a bar of chocolate and I would have been pretty pleased." Nobunaga confessed to her, turning her head towards the bed and staring at the set for a good few seconds. "...You went and made me a full tea set with my own emblem on each of them. How…how long did you spend on this?"

"Eighty five consecutive hours." She replied, Archer whipped around and stared at her with wide eyes, mouth dropping open. "I ensured that each of them had been crafted to structural perfection, those lacking in quality were destroyed."

A noise bubbled in the back of the Archer's throat, taking a single step backwards and bursting out. Something between a laugh and a gasp. Her shoulders fully dropped, arms limply wobbling by her side as her shocked gaze remained firmly planted on Ash's face.

The surprise was…unusual.

"Did…" Ash was unsure how to phrase this. "Did you believe I would provide you with nothing on Valentine's day?"

"...I was expecting Chocolate!" Nobunaga all but shouted back at her, whatever had been keeping her voice in check finally shattered, waving her arms around and sweeping them both towards the bed where the present lay. "Like a little 'Here's something for you' and I would have patted you on the back and given you a thanks! What the actual hell is this?!"

Ash leaned back, her frown deepened.

Nobunaga had thanked her for the present, but was now acting almost affronted?

She did not understand how this hand transpired.

Ash turned and took a step towards the bed. "If you would rather receive chocolate instead-"

Nobunaga dived between her and the bed, whipping around to face Ash and then pointing a finger squarely towards her face.

"You're not taking my tea set away from me!" She hissed.

Ash retreated. "...Then all is well?"

"All is-" With a choked gasp, Nobunaga looked at her with incredulity. "All is…you-how?! How do you-!?"

Eyes closed, the Archer straightened her posture and looked Ash dead in the eyes when they opened back up.

"I will repeat myself for you." Nobunaga smiled. "Thank you very much. Really. You are…you are the best retainer I could ask for…At the moment."

Ash gave a content nod.

Nobunaga liked the gift.

"...Then all is well." She turned away and walked towards the door, stopping only when Nobunaga grabbed her arm.

"Wha-aren't you expecting a return present?"

"No."

"...You are…" Nobunaga exhaled. "...Alright, just wait. I'll find a way to one up you. I can't be seen up by my own retainer after something like this."

Ash never considered getting anything in return. It would have been wasted on her.

But she did not voice that aloud, she instead nodded her head and turned to Nobunaga. "Then I will wait for your return present."

The grin on Nobunaga's face got wider. "Of course you will! Wahahahaha! Just you wait! You're going to be utterly blown away by my return present!"

The excitement in the face of Nobunaga was…

…Ash grunted in response, then walked out of the room, stopping when the door shut behind her.

Her left hand came up, then pressed itself against her chest, just over the top of her silent heart. She remained standing for a few moments, then slowly, her expression morphed into a frown.

She was content her gift was not going to be wasted.

Yet beyond that feeling, she had…nothing.

Relief that she had not wasted all that time.

That was more than enough, she told herself.

Ignoring the small part of her mind that had wanted, expected, something more.