"I've been hearing things… disgusting things."
Archer raised his eyebrow at Jeanne. "About you fucking goats?"
"Don't say it so candidly! …But yes, about me… having relationships with goats."
"If it's any comfort, it's technically not you they're talking about. Just someone with your face."
"...It's very cold comfort, Archer." Jeanne said in a deflated voice. She sighed. "How did you get it to spread so quickly?"
"Just timing, really. The doctor said that the 'strategy' was devised just last night. We used the already growing… fanbase of our group to spread the word this morning just before your group came." Archer explained. Judging by the fact that they already heard people gossiping about it in almost every corner they turned to, safe to say that it was a great success. "I heard that your doppelganger blew up when she heard it herself, and that led to the rumor spreading like wildfire among the soldiers, which leads us here." Archer added with an amused smile. Lashing out instead of brushing it off calmly? Amateur hour.
She should've known better. Typical soldiers and their mob mentality.
Still, accusing her of being a goat fucker, huh? Archer couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the claim when he first heard the proposal, but he couldn't deny its effectiveness. Dare he say, coupled with the show they had coming, they were set to deliver the coup de grace for The Witch.
"I suppose if it helps with the cause, I can bear with it." She lamented. "Though I have to say, good job on the mission here. I don't think there's ever been this many people wearing those shirts." Jeanne said.
Archer snorted. "Wasn't us. Some guy called Bune did it before we could come here."
"Bune? The man who Murasaki met in Marseille?"
"The very same. He's here in Bordeaux, actually. Caster said something about managing to convince him to stay to watch this show. They're probably talking right now." Archer said. He supposed he should thank the man for sparing him from a few more hours of peddling shirts with Lancer, but there was something off about him that prevented Archer to. Maybe it was his profession, merchants were always part of his shitlist, especially arms dealers.
"I see… Well, thank you Archer. I'm going to go see Marie now." Jeanne said, taking her leave, to which Archer only nodded.
'...Things sure are overwhelmingly in our favor.' Archer thought. He'd spent the last day in Bordeaux and listened intently to people, both their loudmouthing and their whispering. There was practically no more animosity directed towards Jeanne d'Arc, the true one, that is. He could even see her interact with the people now, answering the admired calls of children and gratitude of their parents. It was a good thing, for them, anyway. To Archer, all it pointed out was the nature of the public. It was not even five days ago that they were calling for their heads while praising 'The Saintess' as their idol (not that kind), and in that short period of time, the tables had been turned.
Cold world. Anybody could gain the trust of the people, the hard part was keeping it. Though Archer supposed he had little room to talk about that.
'Good thing we're wrapping this up tomorrow.' He didn't really want to deal with trying to keep the people's loyalty when the next thing they'd latch on to appears.
"Archer!"
The servant turned to look at the source of the voice.
"Ritsuka." Archer said to the boy making his way to him. "Have you met King yet?"
"No, he's busy with Elizabeth, apparently. I did meet with Karna though. He said that King is planning tonight to be 'special'."
"Is that so?" Archer said. Typical of a mage of his caliber. It wasn't enough that they were already outnumbering The Witch by more than ten thousand, he just had to put a nice little bow on it in the form of a supershow of sorts. Well, Archer didn't disapprove of it, though. Best to completely annihilate your enemy rather than risk them coming back.
"...Say, Archer?"
"Hm?" Archer turned to Ritsuka, there was a look on his face. He felt like he knew what was coming. The signs had been there since the day after he told the boy what he needed to hear.
"I… have been thinking about what you said, about me being a master a few days ago, and… I agree. You're right." The boy said slowly. Hesitating, but not because he was unsure. It was just a bitter pill to swallow, Archer reasoned.
"I see." Archer nodded. "Good." That was one thing off his mind. No more would he have to throw a glance Ritsuka's way in every single battle in hopes that he wouldn't see a corpse where the young boy once stood. With King, he could trust the man to take care of himself, and more.
"...Yeah. Archer, thanks for–"
"Sorry."
Ritsuka stopped talking, taken aback.
"S-sorry? Why?"
Archer sighed. "It's for your own good, but… it affected your psyche for a while." It was necessary, but a part of Archer felt just a smidge bad for being harsh on the kid, whose only crime was being in the right place at the wrong time.
"Was it that obvious?"
"Very."
Ritsuka chuckled. "...It's fine. I think I needed to hear it anyway." He said in a calm and accepting tone.
Archer looked at the boy's face. He matured surprisingly fast. Had circumstances been different and King was not here, maybe he would've made for a decent master, all things considered. But circumstances were not different, and Fujimaru Ritsuka was not, and should not, be a senseless sacrifice.
"Thanks. For not being stubborn." Archer said. Only God knows how much he'd had it with stubborn people, including himself.
"...No, I don't think I'm not stubborn, actually."
"...So? What are you planning to do after you resign?" Archer asked. He felt the need to. The world wasn't going to magically restore itself just because he stepped down.
There was a period of silence, at first brief enough for Archer to simply assume that his soon to be former master was merely thinking about the options, but past the thirty second mark, Archer couldn't help but turn to Ritsuka.
His lips were quivering, barely. Archer doubted the boy even realized it.
"Ri–"
"I-I'll cross that bridge when I see it, I guess." He said suddenly. "S-say! What do you think about tonight's show, Archer?" Ritsuka asked awkwardly. An attempt to change the topic, anyone could see that, but Archer accepted it gladly. He didn't need, or know how to navigate through that right now. Cross that bridge when he sees it? Archer hoped the boy would.
"...To be blunt, I think they're stupid. One thing for a select few to attend the show, but we're up to this whole city and still counting with people from other cities." The servant said honestly. He was glad, don't get him wrong, but a part of him felt like the whole thing was incredibly idiotic on their audience's behalf.
"To be fair, it's not like we're charging them."
"Those merchandise, which all of them are wearing, need I remind you, are at least twice as expensive as any nosebleed section of any show I know." Archer deadpanned.
Ritsuka chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that's right. …Wait, you've been to idol shows before?"
Archer declined to answer.
A day had passed in Bordeaux for Mash, but it had yet to lose its luster for her.
Yesterday, she had taken her Senpai's advice and, with him, she tasted the various culinary medieval France had to offer. Some were okay, others were horrendous, no offense to the cooks, and a few were out of this world, but she remembered all of them on her tongue the same. If her Senpai was correct, then it would stay there almost forever. She could see why that would be the case, the taste of meat grilled over charcoal that was barely inches off the ground and seasoned with spices that had already been encrusted in their containers… all of them were a far cry from the sterile environment of Chaldea's food, and she couldn't be more excited when she tried them, regardless of how they ended up tasting on her tongue. They were all delicious if only for her curiosity.
All in all, she was satisfied.
Maybe.
She didn't really know honestly.
She had fun, that much was definite, but what could be classified as a 'satisfactory' trip? Though calling it a trip felt rather disrespectful to everyone who was risking their lives, even if she was one of them. But it had felt like one ever since King held that show with Elizabeth! She enjoyed the scenes in Thiers and Bordeaux, the food with her Senpai, and even today she was simply walking around relaxed!
'I should thank Mister King later.' Mash thought. She never thought the chance to live out the things she had only seen in books were ever going to come, but since he decided to take most of the burden by himself, she couldn't resist.
Either way, she still had no idea if her trip was a good one. It was her first after all, she had no benchmark. Thankfully, someone who could answer her question was present with her, and was making his way to her.
"Senpai!"
"...Mash."
Mash's steps halted, then slowed. Did he sound… sad just now? No, that wasn't it. It was something else, but for the life of her, Mash couldn't pinpoint the right word. The tone of his voice wasn't a great match with any of the emotions she read about.
"...Senpai? Is something wrong?" The shielder asked carefully.
"It's… it's nothing. Nothing too important anyway." Ritsuka replied, the last part said in a whisper though she noticed. The girl began to open her mouth, but her tongue stayed. Would it be too rude for her to pry? Ritsuka was her senpai, and she was his kouhai, but what did that really mean for their relationship beyond? Could she call him a friend, a close friend even, maybe? She wanted to, she knew at least that, but would it be proper for her to pry so deep so early in their friendship?
"...If you say so, Senpai." Mash said eventually, swallowing her worry and curiosity.
"Yeah, I'll just… worry about it later. Anyway, what's up Mash? How's today?"
"O-oh, well, I was just going around by myself. We already tried basically everything yesterday, but… I just felt like I still wanted to do something." Mash admitted. It felt like she was asking to have her cake and eat it too, but if there was anyone she felt comfortable admitting it to, then he was right in front of her.
"Something, huh? I think there's not much to do here anymore, though." Ritsuka said, to which Mash nodded shyly. So she was being too greedy, wasn't she?
"Tell you what, Mash, if you're still craving for a trip somewhere, I'll give you a trip around my hometown once we– once you are free from this whole mess. If you want, that is." He offered.
Going to Senpai's hometown? In Japan? Going outside of Chaldea for the first time outside of singularities? Of course she wanted to! "Of course I do! But… wouldn't that be too much trouble for you, Senpai?" She asked. Ritsuka already helped with a lot of things, becoming her master, helping her use her noble phantasm, offering to teach her whatever he could about the world beyond Chaldea's walls, was it fine for her to want more?
"Of course not. I'm your 'Senpai', right? I have to take care of my kouhai." He said with a smile, and all of Mash's worries in that moment disappeared.
"R-right!"
Ritsuka chuckled. "You know you can be a little more indulgent, right?"
"I-indulgent?" A single thought entered her mind, but she dismissed it as quickly as it appeared. 'No! That would be way too much!'
"Yeah. I mean, when I go on vacation, it's like, the only time where I'm not swarmed by school assignments and homework. So you know, just let yourself go! Do whatever you want!" He said, gesturing with wide arms. "...I guess this is a whole different ballpark from school, though." Ritsuka added sheepishly.
"N-no, you're right, master."
Ritsuka became rigid for a moment, his hand stopped scratching the back of his head. Mash just barely noticed it, maybe it was the weather?
"...Right. So, what is it? You've been looking like there's something you wanted to do ever since we started talking." Ritsuka said, the smile returning to his face as if it never left, because it was only then did Mash notice it was ever missing.
Once again, Mash's curiosity, and worry, were peaked, but the inquisitive glance Ritsuka gave her off his question put an end to them, and also opened her mind.
"...Well, I guess there is one thing."
The moon shined over France, and for this night specifically, Bordeaux was brighter than any other commune in the nation. Maybe one could call it a statement from its people, France's people, that even in the bleakest of times, of Witches and Dragons, whimsy and love would never fade away as long as the people in the land called it France.
The roar of the crowd, even to an empty stage, was the only sound one could hear. No more conflicts between loyalties to England or France, no more arguments between friends before that stage. In this night, all were gathered under the banner of idols, and it could be heard under the homogeneity of their chants.
Tonight, France was but one soul united.
And their unifiers were sitting just beyond the curtains on top of that stage.
"...Damn, I thought last night's crowd was big, but this?" Achilles said, incredulous as he peeked through the curtains. "How many are there?" The streets were full, people were standing neck to neck, but that wasn't all. The buildings and the roofs were full of people too.
"At least five." Archer answered.
"Shit, a blind person can tell me that, man."
"Five hundred thousand, I obviously meant, Achilles."
"...Half a million?"
" At least."
Cu Chulainn whistled. "Well, all of you idols sure got your work cut out for ya. Me and the other security guys are just gonna chill back here if that's alright with you." He said as he retreated to the back of the area, where Kojiro and Siegfried stood.
"As you all know, this is our last show before tomorrow's assault. The odds are in our favor, with the military's defection and the enemy servants' defeat, the wyverns have retreated to Orleans to protect our impostor, as confirmed by Commander Le Corbeau's men." Olga briefed from King's communicator which he had placed on the table. "So, there is no need for a specific strategy or watchful eyes for tonight." She added.
"I… see?" Mash said, unsure of what the director was trying to say.
Olga sighed. "...What I'm trying to say is: Have fun. Just let yourselves go."
"Huh, didn't know you can be so lax, director." Romani said.
"That is another 2% off your wage once we restore humanity, Romani."
"Wait, no, please! I need money for Magi Mari!"
"...5% off."
"How kind of you to limit the doctor's spending, director."
"Mash?!"
"Anyway, all of you are free to do whatever you want tonight. Elizabeth, sing as much as you want." Elizabeth cheered. "You too, Achilles and Kiyohime." Achilles simply nodded while Kiyohime made… eyes at Ritsuka. "Anyone else who wants to come up on the stage and sing, you are all welcome to."
"I-I have written more songs too! Please feel free to pick … i-if anyone wants to." Murasaki said suddenly, laying several scrolls on the table.
"I'll pass." Archer said.
"Nah." Cu Chulainn agreed.
"I do not believe I have the requisites to be an… idol." Siegfried admitted.
"Neither do I." Kojiro shared the same sentiment.
"Alright then, guess you guys are gonna be our security." Ritsuka said.
"There's still ten minutes before the show starts, so make your choices now." Olga ordered, before her form disappeared.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart whistled his own tune as he sat by the curtains. It was not a tune befitting the show about to take place, as it was a tune of his own composition., distinct from any of the idol music he had begrudgingly sounded through some hundred thousand people since King had requested him to. It irked him to no end that the attendance of each show had fast outnumbered any of his shows, perhaps combined, in life. Maybe not his fault, only the rich ever did have the privilege to hear his music back then, though that did not change his opinion on the level of which they were able to comprehend the vibrations he blessed their airs with. Detestable, the lot of them, and he felt the same towards the half-a-million standing below the stage now. Every concert was a battle for him to sit through the hell of his own doing and for him to not shut everything down the moment Elizabeth's voice hit.
There were perhaps two performances that were exceptions, so far, but he doubted that he would see any of that quality again, judging from the atmosphere of the crowd.
"Amadeus?"
Amadeus opened his closed eyelids at Marie's voice. She approached him with a smile, but not the honest one she had been wearing more ever since the 'idol' shows started. There was an inquisitive edge with a hidden meaning to it.
A queen's smile.
"Yes, Marie?" The composer answered, though he felt like nothing good would come out of it. Who was he to go against a queen's orders?
"Why are you holding back, hm?"
'Ah, damn.'
"Whatever are you talking about?" Amadeus said, feigning ignorance. It was futile, but what was human if not struggle?
"I know this isn't the full extent of your powers when it comes to a stage." Marie said, suggested, and requested slyly. The first explicit, the second implied, and the third unspoken.
Amadeus could only sigh.
"You know how I feel about this… music, Marie." He said, spitting the word music like poison. "If Christ himself were to exist at the same time as this 'idol music', there is little doubt in my mind that we would still be full of sin."
"A bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"
"No, no. That is my true belief, Marie."
"So, is there no chance for you to unleash your true powers, O Great Composer Mozart?" The queen asked, assuming what Amadeus could only describe as 'the eyes of a starving puppy'.
But he wasn't moved.
"No."
"I'll perform if you do."
"...Do you think of me that shallow, Marie?"
"A little, yes." She admitted. Amadeus' lips twitched slightly. "But come on! Doesn't this change your mind at least a little?"
It was tempting.
But push him over the edge it did not.
Amadeus simply looked away in response.
"Please Amadeus. For d'Eon, at least."
Amadeus closed his eyes. For that knight, hm? They were as detestable as any human Amadeus knew, including the one he saw each time he gazed at a mirror, but…
"...Ah, to hell with it."
…He supposed those brief glimpses of beauty they showed him were well worth repaying.
Amadeus stood up and walked towards the curtains while twirling his pale locks, ignoring Marie's thanks as much as it made him happy. No thanks would amount to the sacrilege he was about to commit.
But then again, what was life without a little blasphemy from time to time?
"People of Bordeaux!" He greeted as he passed on through the stage. The crowd went to attentive silence. "You need not know my name, only that I am responsible for the sounds of these vocalists to reach your ears! Allow me to apologize, for I have been withholding from you my true power." Murmurs of excitement. Amadeus couldn't help but crack a smug smile. "Fear not, for I have been persuaded to unleash my true prowess in the arts, and tonight, you shall listen, admire, and worship."
With a snap of his fingers, the lights went out, and he prepared a masterpiece of his own. Amadeus smirked. If he was going to do this, then he would be remiss to not indulge in stroking his own ego.
Amadeus was a student of the game, he knew of the early pioneers of his genre. Dufay, Binchois, Ockeghem, perhaps Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart would not exist if not for the steps to which they had contributed to the stairs of music, and as such, he was not so uncouth as to disrespect them.
Which is why he settled with simply acknowledging them as his inferiors.
1431, France. Classical music had not yet been a staple, but in the three hundred years since, a man blessed by God had taken it to what some would call its peak.
And tonight, he was flipping the mountain.
A flick of his wrists, and the lights turned on, dimly. His instruments began to play by themselves, the shadows of the trombones, the flutes, the trumpets, all came into view for his audience, just barely. And they were captivated by the comparatively soft music that played in contrast to their previous experiences, and, just a little bit, Mozart's faith in taste was restored.
If this was no singularity, then he might have mustered the decency to feel sorry for tarnishing his predecessors' legacy by his mere existence, but it was, so he felt no such thing.
Amadeus turned his back to the crowd, unknown to them as his instruments delivered his talent onto their ears, and returned back to the curtains, where Marie was excitedly jumping up and down in front of Elizabeth.
"Elizabeth! I'll warm up the crowd if you don't mind!"
Elizabeth smiled at the owner of the palace that set her stage. "Kill em, queen."
"A vocal rendition of my own piece, Marie? Do you have such little faith in me?" Amadeus asked Marie as she passed him by.
"I can ask the same thing to you."
He chuckled. "Well, in my case, I have no doubts. Go forth, Marie."
Marie replied with a wink, and the crowd cheered and chanted her name as the lights came back.
France had not seen a night like this, would not see another night like this, and in the end, never did see a night like this.
"Seems like it's started, huh?" King muttered to himself.
Olga had already talked to him about the whole 'let everyone be an idol' thing, and he gave the greenlight. He wasn't sure why she bothered asking him. What could he do to say no if he didn't want that anyway? He hadn't done anything as 'President' other than appear a bunch of times to open the show, much to his chagrin, so he doubted his opinion mattered.
'Well, not like I disagree, though.' Usually, the bigger the groups are, the bigger the drama, but this was their last show, right? Might as well make it as grand as possible.
King cracked a smile. He was gonna wait first. Wait until the crowd was hyped up enough, until Elizabeth took the center stage, until the show hit its climax, then he would soak in all of the atmosphere of the show, remind himself what he lost three years ago, until the feeling stays with him for the next three years.
"Master. It is indeed a great night to smile about, isn't it?"
King almost jumped at the sudden voice of his first servant. 'Man, how the hell does Karna sneak up like that?' It wasn't like the guy's short, even if he was taller. He was still lugging around that spear too!
"Y-yes, Karna. Say, are you not going to join the security team or something?" King asked. It would be a great relief to have someone like Karna to guard his back, though King supposed he could snap back to battle mode whenever he wished to.
"Well, that's part of why I came to you master." Karna said, his tone ever the same regardless of the topic of the conversation.
"...Yes?"
"Do you think I could be an idol?"
…
King eyed Karna up and down. Son of a god, a sun god, distinguished hero unlike himself, and above all, a terrifyingly strong warrior.
And he was asking if he could be an idol?
"...Don't you feel like that's beneath you?" King couldn't help but ask.
"Beneath me? Master, there is nothing that is beneath me but the ground."
He'd run through a goddamn traffic if he thought he would help, wouldn't he? Then again, someone like Karna, King doubted traffic would do anything against him. And how the hell did he make being humble sound so cool?! It was genuine, too, which only served to further exasperate the scarred master.
King looked at Karna again, at his face this time. White hair, pretty face, thin frame…
"Yeah, you'd be a hit. Go out there, Karna. Do what you want." King said. Especially with the female crowd.
No harm in another male idol, right?
"Very well, master. Where do you think I can learn more before I present myself to the crowd?"
"Go ask one of the idols who already performed." King said, pointing to the three who had already been on the shows. Transitioning from a warrior to an idol sounded weird to King, but if Achilles could do it, then he didn't see why Karna couldn't.
Karna nodded, and went to the nearest idol in his vicinity.
"Elizabeth Bathory, I need your guidance."
"Mash? Can we get a visual?"
"Y-yes, director!"
The command room was bustling, but for once, Olga Marie didn't mind it so much.
There was some quiet cheering, whispers of excitement, and some… firm handshakes? Must be some dedicated idol fans. She eyed Romani, his hands were balled up softly, as if grasping something invisible and shaking them up and down. She put three of her knuckles against her forehead. She knew what glow sticks were, if forced by having to catch the doctor in the act whenever he got too absorbed into his 'magi mari' shows or whatever it was.
Well, she let it go, though. Just this once.
She'd be lying if she wasn't in the mood to get into the show too, judging by the light tapping sound she only just realized her feet made.
Practically the only person in the room that wasn't in some degree of festive mood was James, but she wasn't one to question the mind of someone whose first thought to the question 'how should we turn the public opinion against a beloved figure?' was to accuse them of… intercourse with an animal.
The fact that it worked so well made her want to question everything she had been taught, but Olga decided not to. For her own sanity.
Instead, she ruminated on the events that led to this 'idol show'. Meeting Elizabeth Bathory, King's ingenuity, the lightning-in-a-bottle nature of the first show, and of course, their own contributions in the form of the scandal James fabricated and–
Olga looked to her left. She was there again. That girl.
The bespectacled girl with brown hair that extended down her back, the girl responsible for the arts which had now united a nation, even if time would not recognize her efforts. Olga had never been much of an artist herself, but even she knew how much of an ask drawing those many works in a single night was.
But she fulfilled it.
The girl whose name Olga still didn't know.
"...James." The man dressed in denim, which she wondered adhered to Chaldea's uniform code now that she thought about it (though she supposed it mattered little in the end of the world), didn't respond, but she knew he heard him. "Good idea with the scandal. Without it, we might still be facing ample resistance from the military. Thank you." He didn't respond, but he didn't need to.
Then, Olga turned to the other person who deserved the same amount of praise.
Their eyes met once again, but she didn't falter this time. Neither would Olga.
"You did a great job too, you have my thanks. Be proud." Olga said, and she could the girl gulp nervously.
"...No, I– …I don't think I'm that good. Like you said back then."
"...Why not?"
The girl casted her look down. "I… posted my art on the internet once, until a year ago." Olga almost winced. Almost. A year ago, the implication was clear to the director. "They never did get much attention, and I flunked my art school exams, too. No one ever said anything great about my works, either. They're just… mediocre, slop. They're not 'great'. You were right."
"...Maybe not, but you know what they are?" Olga asked, she raised her head to meet her. "They are works that saved humanity. They're one of a kind. Maybe history won't remember the art you made, but…" They both gazed at the screen overlooking the room. Hundreds of thousands of people wearing those designs, the ones she made. All cheering against humanity's enemy, even if they didn't know it. "...I will never forget what you did. I promise you that much."
The girl didn't respond, but her eyes looked less apprehensive now, less scared. It almost looked… appreciative? Though not quite at that level yet.
Olga closed her eyes. "...Look. You don't have to accept my apology, you don't have to like me, either. My mistakes and incompetence, I'll bear their consequences myself. You don't need to play a part and 'accept' me, ever." She opened her eyes. The girl's body was now facing her, staring directly at her but her arms lax on her lap. There was a sense of relaxation to her, even as her mouth still quivered ever so slightly, unlike every other time they've met before.
"All I ask… is that you work here comfortably. And that you don't feel the need to look over your shoulder just because of me. I'll never interact with you directly anymore if that's what you need." Olga said.
There was no response for the next minute, only the sounds of the concert transmitted by Mash's communicator, which reverberated through Olga's body, and she was sure it did through the girl's too. She was fine with letting it end like that. Not all of the missteps she made along the way needed to be shouldered by someone else. She was fine with shouldering this on her own, even if she would never talk again with the girl sitting beside her.
"...Director."
Olga turned slowly to look at the girl, who now she realized had yet to turn herself away from her.
"I… don't know if I could forgive you for what you did back then… but I can thank you for what you just did. So, thank you. For what you said, about my art."
"...You're welcome." was all that Olga could say. It was enough.
…But she still felt like there was one more thing she could ask now.
"...We never introduced ourselves properly, did we?"
"I know who you are, director."
"But I don't know you, so–"
Olga extended her hand to the girl, whose amber eyes reacted with surprise.
"I'm Olga Marie Animusphere. Director of Chaldea."
Slowly, she grasped the director's hand.
"Kali. Kali Cherine. Engineering Division."
Their hands shook.
"Well, Miss Cherine. Let's enjoy the show, shall we?"
"...Yes, director. I think I'd like that."
Most people would pace around if they had to perform on a stage in a matter of minutes, either from excitement or anxiety.
Karna was not most people.
As he stared at the curtains, Amadeus' music preparing to take its leave and Marie singing the final lines to her song, he only knew that he would meet his master's expectations on the stage. And for most first timers, that would be far more than enough.
Karna was not most.
He planned to excel, to surpass expectations the same way his master did things even he could have never thought of had he been given his lifetime to think. A show to capture people's hearts? Done by assembling a cacophony of different noble phantasms to bring to life a stage that instantly caught their attention? All topped off by an immaculate eye for talent? Brilliant, genius, incredible. Most would be content with simply admiring and basking in the glory that King had brought them.
Karna was not content with that.
If he were to call himself his master's servant, then he needed to step up to the call. To do something he himself could never expect doing. He would have tried to do something that belied his master's expectations, but at this point, the lancer no longer thought that possible.
And Karna thought that he might just have landed on a solution.
"Karna."
"Siegfried."
The lancer turned to the dragon slayer. Karna wouldn't say that he had any particular emotion showing on his face, but he was never quite the best at those kinds of deductions. "What brings you here?" Karna asked.
"Curiosity, mostly."
"About my upcoming performance?"
The saber nodded. "Yes, my apologies if I am too nosy. I'm simply wondering why. As I understand it, there is no need for you to join them, yes? Your director said as much that this is more of a formality. So, Karna, this must be your own decision."
His own decision?
"...Yes, I suppose it is."
It was, now that he thought about it.
"I was the one who approached him, not the other way around, you are correct, Siegfried." Karna admitted. Though it felt like his master expected him, and that his question felt like rhetoric, he couldn't deny that it was he himself that first raised the idea.
"And? What did he say?"
"He told me: 'Do what you want'." Karna said. "But that's not everything that he meant. He did not lie, he wants me to do what I want, but I see the underlying challenge he gave me, to show that what I want can keep up with what he expects of me." He stopped and briefly looked at his master. To most, it would seem like he had nothing better to do, simply gazing at nothing as he sat by, but Karna knew better. He was expecting, planning, and perhaps unbeknownst to all of them, already executing his plans. "He wants my desires to match up with his own plans, and I plan to fulfill that expectation."
Yes, Karna saw it in full now. This was a test. Was this beneath him, his master asked. Karna answered with words then, he would answer by actions now.
For if this was Karna's desire, then, by Surya, it would never be beneath him.
"...I see. Then, I bid you luck."
The sounds from the stage died down, replaced by applause, and Karna knew his time was now.
He smiled.
"No need. Relying on luck now would simply slow me down."
He walked towards the curtains, Marie emerged from it.
"Oh, Karna! Are you next?"
"I am."
"Then go out there and kill it!"
Kill? He had no idea what he should 'kill', but he'd try his best.
As he reached the stage, he looked to his left. It would seem that the composer fulfilled his end of the deal. Karna picked it up, sleek black was its base color, with white, red, and gold patterns flowing through it, ending with a V-shape.
A guitar, according to the grail. An electric guitar.
Did he know how to play such an instrument? Did he even know how to sing? To dance?
The crowd's awaiting stares and bated breaths only took him back to the guidance Elizabeth gave him.
"Hm? You want to perform? Sure, go on. Warm 'em up before my main event, alright?"
"Are you not worried? I have little to no experience with the arts, much less the modern style you have been performing."
"Who cares about that? Just use your passion ."
Passion.
"Then go out there and kill it!"
Kill.
"Go out there, Karna. Do what you want."
Right.
He simply needed to treat this like the one thing he wanted the most. The thing that he would answer with should he be forced to a grail without the option of saying no.
A fight to the death.
His opponent, the audience's favor.
His weapon, this guitar.
Victory would be the roar of the crowd.
Death would be failing to match his master.
Karna knew which outcome would come true.
It was silent now, was it truly this silent? or was he simply ignoring whatever the crowd had to say?
No matter.
Karna gripped the guitar tight with his fingers, holding it close to his body. His other arm was up high, his fingertips crackled with sparks.
It mattered little what the crowd thought of him then.
Because he knew that he would never fail his master.
He brought his arm down. His fingers met the strings, and he listened. The intricate vibrations that each of his fingers caused as if they were the techniques of his spear, and he learned how a warrior would. From there, it was as simple as the wars he had waged in his life.
This was to be his weapon, and now he knew its methods.
The blare of the guitar, the pillars of fire, the roar of the crowd.
Karna already succeeded.
The rest was a simple victory lap.
"Do I… really need to do this, Marie?"
Jeanne anxiously glanced at the stage. If Marie's performance was soothing with a hint of intensity, then Karna was nothing but intensity.
"Oui! This is our last show! Our Coup de Grace! What better way to improve it than to have their new Saintess sing?"
Jeanne fidgeted at Marie's response, and at the new clothes she was wearing.
Jeanne lifted the hem of her new skirt ever so slightly. It was white, the entire dress was white. The skirts ended in sharp curtains, each flap decorated with symbols. Her hand then went to her new headdress, a modification of her old metal helmet, a white, broidered hat of sorts.
The new dress was the work of Marie, so she heard. According to Amadeus, she had rushed to the nearest tailor once she heard that others might be performing tonight, and had the dress made then and there. Free of charge.
Though Jeanne had to question why the chest area was so… exposed.
'...For the cause, Jeanne. For the cause.'
"So, do you like the dress?"
"...Yes, I suppose." Jeanne had to admit, it was well tailored, managing to strike the perfect balance between elegance and indulgence, her misgivings about the chest exposure aside.
"Well, then! What are you waiting for? Go out there, come on!" Marie said, taking Jeanne by the hand.
"W-wait! Isn't Karna still out there?" Jeanne asked, though unable to resist the pull as she reluctantly followed Marie.
"It's fine! He said something about 'ending his part in a spectacular way' and that we 'will know when he's done'." Marie answered. "Besides, you're going to be in a duo!"
"D-duo?"
"Lady Murasaki!"
Jeanne turned to the curtains, and Murasaki to Marie. Their eyes met.
"Jeanne here will be your partner. Have fun you two!"
Abruptly, Marie left them, and now the novelist and saint were by themselves.
"Lady Murasaki." Jeanne greeted.
Murasaki nodded. "Lady Arc."
The atmosphere was rather awkward, Jeanne thought. They had little time to talk since that night she taught her basic French along with King.
"...You can just call me Jeanne, Lady Murasaki. It feels rather… impolite for an older woman to call me like that." Jeanne admitted with a blush.
"I-Impolite? But aren't you of a much higher status than me?"
"Status? N-no, I'm not. People may call me saint and such, but… I have never been anything more than a country girl." Jeanne said.
"I-I see… I suppose the books in Chaldea regarding you failed to mention much of that period of your life." Murasaki said, and Jeanne casted her gaze down.
Was that what she would be remembered by in the future? All for the battles she did but none for the life on her farm? She had to admit, it displeased her slightly.
"Although… I have to say, I'd like to hear more about it, should we have the chance, Jeanne." Murasaki said, to which Jeanne turned to her. "While battles do make for good stories, I think what you felt as a child would make for great ones."
"..." Jeanne wanted to formulate a response, but how could she?
"A-ah, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be–"
"...Can I be honest about something, Murasaki?"
"...Yes?"
"I admire you."
"Admire… M-me? W-why?"
Jeanne turned away from the caster.
"I always loved stories. Ones that my mother would read to me as I went to bed. Thinking that you were just like the authors that made my childhood… I couldn't help but look at you in awe sometimes."
"N-no, I–"
"That's not all." Jeanne said, and Murasaki fell silent again. "What you said just now, about my childhood, made me think." She paused for a moment, and thought back to the smell of sweat and burning wood. "I… never wanted to forget about them, but at some point, I did feel that it would be better if I did." She did once. During nights when she would hear her soldiers talk about killing their enemies under her banner, how different she thought it all was as she prayed with clutched, shaking hands. "But, after hearing what you just said, I… just feel stupid now." Why did she ever wish to be someone else? It was all so… dumb now that she looked back on it. Those days she spent as a daughter of a farm owner would always be a part of her, even as she ran away to become a soldier of God. He wouldn't wish her to forget, and now she knew that never should have either.
Jeanne turned back to Murasaki, the novelist's eyes were on her the entire time.
"So, if we ever get the chance, I'd like you to teach me how to write a story."
The sound of guitar strums getting increasingly more and more intense cut their conversation.
" Should destiny or reason intrude on our love
we'll destroy them together, come on!
smile for me, my Venus
my beloved Maria
remember fondly, our precious memories "
A romance song, hm? The lancer never struck Jeanne as the romantic type, and maybe he wasn't. But the line between passion and romance was very thin, and Karna was definitely a strong member of the former.
"...I don't think you were stupid, Jeanne."
Jeanne turned towards Murasaki. There was a knowing look in her eyes. The song was about to end.
"I think… the way you looked back, the way you doubted yourself, those made stories, too. You doubted, you thought, and now you came to a conclusion. In that way, you were already a story, Jeanne d'Arc." A brief pause. "Only those who doubted could ever write stories, in my opinion. So… don't decry yourself as stupid, Jeanne. Celebrate yourself for overcoming. I think… that's the best lesson I can give you right now."
'Celebrate… myself?'
Jeanne felt a hand grasp hers.
"Jeanne."
Murasaki looked towards the stage..
"Let's start tonight."
Tonight? But–
Jeanne didn't have time to fully process as a loud booming sound rang through the stage, and she felt a pull on her hand yet again. And when she opened her eyes, she was on the stage.
The first thing Jeanne noticed was the fireworks. Or Karna, more accurately, flying through the night sky. A second sun accompanying the moon that had the crowd all looking up, as if the stage had disappeared.
And it gave ample time for Murasaki to prepare.
In the corner of her eyes, Jeanne saw even more instruments arise, replacing the classical ones Amadeus had conjured with eastern ones. Murasaki's work, she realized.
As if in accordance with Karna's peak in the sky, a sharp stringing of a harp, or the Japanese equivalent of one, rang through the air. The crowd turned back to the stage at the same time, almost looking coordinated, to the both of them.
" The moon shines upon you / It cascades its light but fire is all that was the night sky / What say you? / Are the flames yours or mere lies?"
The words were directed at her, and Jeanne knew at that moment Murasaki's intentions. In the sky, Karna reacted to the tone she took, setting the stage in his own right.
Impromptu poetry. Performed by the both of them.
Was this what Murasaki meant?
Her first story, tonight. Spoken by her own mouth.
Jeanne closed her eyes.
" Perhaps both maybe neither / If judgment was cast upon me maybe it would be the truth / Yet if it is my own words I use then I would choose another / For within me lies my own truth."
It was clumsy, maybe as expected from a country bum like her.
But she accepted nonetheless.
"Poetry, hm? Interesting! Maybe France will know how Jeanne feels now!"
Mash agreed with the queen.
But at the same time, she felt there was something wrong about that.
Mash heard even from here. The occasional chants of the fake Jeanne doing… unspeakable things to animals. She had a part in it, that she wouldn't deny, but seeing the effects on this scale made her feel… off. Even if she saw the necessity in it.
"You're… Mash, right? Murasaki said you're next." Marie said suddenly as she closed in on Mash, breaking the shielder out of her stupor.
"Er… right!" Mash said eventually, slightly overwhelmed by the queen's lacking sense of personal space.
It was something she had confessed to her senpai just a few hours ago, that she would like to try being on the stage too. She had planned to not mention it at all even when the director told everyone that they should go all out. After all, there was a chance she could ruin the show, right?
"You should just go for it, Mash. That's the spirit of a trip, you know? Do things that you can't do anywhere else!"
That was what Ritsuka said to her. That she should just do it and sing, dance, maybe even do poetry like the two women currently on stage.
So she did, offering herself as part of the performance to Elizabeth, King, and Murasaki. Who gave her their advice, blessing, and a song respectively.
But now, she was having second thoughts.
"...Mash."
"Y-yes?" Mash said, surprised at the sudden call of her name.
"Something's bothering you, isn't it? You can tell me if you'd like."
This was Queen Marie Antoinette, the one person here who knew best about betrayal, perhaps matched by only Jeanne.
But that only made Mash more hesitant.
"I-I don't know, Queen Marie–"
"Just Marie is fine. I insist." Both at her name, and for Mash to tell her what was wrong.
"R-right, Marie. I just feel… uncomfortable, somehow."
"Uncomfortable?" The queen said, quizzically tilting her head.
It felt wrong for her to feel wrong… somehow, but Mash couldn't help it.
"I know she's our enemy, but… it doesn't feel right to have everyone call her a…"
"You don't have to say it if you don't want to." Marie said, holding her hand out as a gesture to stop.
"...Yes, that. It feels wrong when they all loved her so much just a few days ago." Mash finally admitted.
It didn't make sense to her. How quickly it happened. This was their goal, yes, and Mash supposed that meant that it was a good thing and she should be glad, but she just… couldn't. Were people– humans really like this? Could they just throw away faith and love that easily when a new girl came into town? Whatever answer she might come to, it scared Mash. That people could be so easily swayed, that the people that love you could hate you in a matter of days, that the mere change of identity could do that.
"S-sorry. I'm so soft, aren't I…?" Mash said, hanging her head. It was unbecoming of her to feel sorry for someone who had slaughtered hundred, maybe even thousands, but she didn't feel right if she were to ignore it. Did The Witch deserve any sympathy? Perhaps not, but the people's reactions were… lamentable to her.
"...Mash, let me tell you something."
"Y-yes, Marie?"
"Love… is fragile. It could be just masks. Or maybe it was 'true' love, it just changed. Love isn't always some eternal feeling." Marie said as she briefly touched her own neck. "That's what happened to The Witch, she lost the people's love."
Mash looked away. Was that really the truth of the matter?
"But so what?"
Mash whipped her head back to Marie.
"Something being fragile, something wearing masks, something changing eventually… None of them means it's not real at this moment, right?" The queen asked rhetorically.
"So even if it's not strong, it's… real?" Mash asked. There was still something she didn't understand about what Marie had said.
"Oui! Besides, whether it lasts or not… isn't something your present self should be worrying, you know? Leave that difficult stuff to the Mash of the future!"
"The me of the future, huh?" Mash whispered.
"What's true and certain now is that the people love us, and they will love you, too. So Mash… Just embrace it, alright?"
"W-waiiit?!"
Marie ignored Mash's cries as she pushed her to the curtains. Mash couldn't help but wonder if this was a common occurrence in the queen's life too.
The sound of her steps changed from soft thuds to hard ones, and Mash made her way to a cheering, wild crowd.
Only those cheers weren't for hers. They were leftovers, from the emotional and dramatic poetry by Murasaki and Jeanne with the help of Karna's fiery scenery.
But they weren't there anymore.
She was alone. Jeanne, Murasaki, and Karna had retreated backstage. She hadn't even realized.
Mash gripped the microphone in her hand hard. From what she had heard, Amadeus' instruments would play in accordance to the song being sung, so that was the only thing she needed to do.
She put her mic to her mouth.
Nothing came out.
There was no song from Mash's throat, and the audience died to a silence after three minutes passed without a sound from their newest performer.
And there, Mash realized just how out of depth she really was.
"Marie, do you not think that was too brash?"
"...Ehe?"
"That's not going to undo what you did to Mash, you know."
No, it wouldn't.
Someone had to help her.
"I'm going out there."
"Oh, uh, Ritsuka, right? You're her master, aren't you?" Marie said, turning from Amadeus to the boy behind her.
He almost nodded. "More importantly, I'm her 'senpai', so I need to do this." Ritsuka said, looking at the paralyzed form of Mash from behind. "Oh, and, nice to meet you, Queen Marie."
"Senpai… that's what Japanese people call their seniors, right? How wonderful! To see such camaraderie between senpai and, uh, what was it? Kouhai? Yes!" Marie said cheerfully. "And just call me Marie."
Camaraderie? Was that what was driving Ritsuka? He felt that it was close, but not quite. It was because of something between him and Mash, that much he was certain, but it wasn't camaraderie.
Duty. Yes, that was more accurate, he felt. He had a duty, as her 'senpai', to guide her through something he had more experience in.
Had he ever been an idol? Not really. Performed on stage? Never out of his own volition. Sang? Nope.
But he had been to shows before, and through the sheer gap between their experiences, it made him Mash's 'senpai' in this matter too.
So he decided he would go out there and help Mash, come hell or high water.
"And how do you plan to do that?" Archer's voice rang out from behind him. Ritsuka turned to look at him, but Archer didn't even do the same as he addressed Ritsuka.
How? Well, he had an idea…
"I was in my high school's dance club." Ritsuka confessed. It should prove useful, there was a dance part to Mash's performance according to Murasaki's papers.
Now Archer looked at him. "Now that's a surprise." He paused. "How long were you there?"
Ritsuka looked at his servant, eyes resolute.
"One week."
…
"...Good luck. You're gonna need it."
"Yeah, I do. Thanks."
Archer didn't respond with a 'you're welcome' as Ritsuka walked towards the curtains, he didn't need to. 'Good luck' was approval enough.
"You sure you should let the kid do this." Cu Chulainn asked.
Archer snorted. "It's only the second dumbest thing I've seen him do."
Those were the last things Ritsuka heard as he focused himself in front of the curtains. This was it, just one more step and–
"Fou!"
"Fou?"
"Fou!"
"Fou."
For a moment, Ritsuka thought he was turning into Fou with how he was responding to the critter's gestures.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. Marie took him out to show him off for a bit for the first performance, if he remembered correctly.
"Fou, Fou!" The animal wildly yelled, patting him on the shoulder while pointing to Mash with the other.
Ritsuka chuckled. "Guess I'm not alone, huh? For Mash?"
"Fou." A resolute answer.
He walked on to the stage to silence except for the thuds beneath his feet. Mash was there, as frozen as the crowd beneath her, who was still expecting, even after almost five minutes of nothing.
The silence would end now, but not by him.
"Fou!"
Fou, that was the first sound that the crowd heard in those five minutes, and naturally, their eyes were drawn to DragonFever's mascot. The creature ran across the stage, first to the left, hundreds of thousands pairs of eyes followed, then to the right, and they followed again. Finally, it circled Mash, going around the shielder before perching on top of her breasts, eliciting a cute "Eep!" from the girl.
The attempt to relight the mood of the audience succeeded, but it also succeeded in one other thing.
Misdirection.
It was time to see what 168 hours Ritsuka only vaguely remembered would amount to.
He cleared his throat with a cough, then moved his mic to his mouth.
A song did exist in Ritsuka's throat.
It was Mash's song, as he scanned with his eyes from Murasaki's table earlier, and now, he was going to give it back to her.
" The So Sweet phrases of my Darlin's favorite 70's song
bullies my heart.
My love and phone card balance have been chipped away
by the constant answering machine now familiar to my ears. "
He was a bit embarrassed, well, a lot. This was his first time singing in this large of a crowd and the lyrics were clearly meant for a more… feminine voice. Not that he was much of a singer anyway.
But the recognition and relief in Mash's eyes when they met his own made it all worth it.
" On that day you sent to my pager: "
He gestured to Mash to follow his trailing lyrics. She obliged.
" 「14106」＝「I Love You」 "
A smirk reached Ritsuka's mouth. Great wordplay from Murasaki. He'd tell Mash all about it later.
" I can't get into the mood without you.
I'm don't look so good
on this lonely night with you gone "
This part henceforth they sang together as he reached out his hand to hers, she accepted though with a confused glint in her eyes.
Then, they danced.
" It's no joke.
The sound that connects the two of us
will never ring again. "
Clumsy.
It was rather clumsy, Ritsuka had to say.
Was it his rusty 'skills', if it could even be called that? or the massive difference in their physical strengths throwing both of them off?
"Fou!"
But hey, they were dancing. And to this atmosphere, the crowd couldn't care less for the actual quality as they spun around each other while Fou spun around them.
Ritsuka watched his feet, or felt it, whichever was the right word. The one thing drilled in him in that one week was the importance of footwork and balance, and he would make sure Mash didn't get embarrassed because of him.
" Dark dark Sea of the Moment
Cry Cry Dance like you're swimming
Heart break mermaid "
The song ended there to cheers.
Mash was smiling, Ritsuka was pretty sure he was too.
He felt like he was flying.
…Why did it feel like he was flying?
His gaze went to Mash, whose smile slowly morphed into a horrified expression. Then, his gaze slowly went up, which he thought was weird because he didn't move his head or his eyes.
Then, Mash completely vanished out of his vision, and Ritsuka finally realized what was happening.
All of the lights stared back at him.
A resounding thud, though most of the resonance went through his head, and gasps, there were gasps too.
"Senpai!"
He reached out to the spotlight that blinded his eye, yet his eyes still hurt from the rays that passed between the gaps of his fingers.
He was, in fact, not built for the stage.
"The lights… are too bright."
King winced.
'Damn, I don't wanna be you right now, Ritsuka.'
It seemed like it wasn't just him either. Marie covered her mouth as she gasped while Amadeus shook her head. Cu Chulainn bellowed with laughter while Archer tried to look disappointed but couldn't hide his amused smile.
King? He could only offer his thoughts and prayers.
"...Well, guess that's that, huh?" Achilles asked rhetorically, trying to hold back laughter judging from the slight puffing of his cheeks.
The arrival of Ritsuka with his hand slung over Mash's shoulder confirmed the notion. The young master weakly waved his other hand towards everyone in the group.
"Don't worry, master. I'll avenge you." Kiyohime said confidently. Ritsuka only responded with a smile and a nod, which seemed to send the girl to cloud nine.
Achilles patted the boy on the shoulder, a gesture of consolation that judging from Ritsuka's face barely reduced his embarrassment, and went to the stage, followed by the green haired berserker.
This was it. The final performance of this show.
Of this tour.
Of his tour.
Though calling it his tour was an overstatement, maybe even an outright lie.
He did basically nothing after all.
Nothing compared to the girl sitting beside him.
Elizabeth felt around her neck with her hand, then smiled in approval.
"Checking last night's wounds?" King asked. He still couldn't help but be worried about her condition. It was a rather… gruesome sight, even if none of the wounds were visible now. It was the only thing he could be if he couldn't actually help her back then.
"Mhm! I'm ready now, but I guess I gotta be patient. I'm~ The~ Main~ Event~ after all~" Elizabeth replied to the tune of a melody. Sharp and pleasing to the ears as King had always heard her sing.
"Come on! Make some noise! You guys are never gonna see a night like this again!" Achilles' voice sounded through the crowd and to the back too. The audience responded in kind, shouting his name in adoration as he and Kiyohime started their songs.
King looked towards Ritsuka. He apologized to the crowd for his blunder after his fall, which was unfortunate for the boy. The crowd seemed forgiving, encouraging even, like it was a purposeful mistake for comedic effect.
A perfect cooldown segment, King must say. The reactions of the crowd to Achilles and Kiyohime's prelude for Elizabeth only served to confirm his judgment.
"Alright, time for me to prepare." Elizabeth said, getting up from the couch where they had both been sitting.
King looked at her. Elizabeth Bathory. He never heard of her before going here, why would he? He studied French history in preparation, he never expected a servant from… Hungary, right, to show up. From the brief synopsis Romani had given him in their downtime, he learned that the name belonged to a serial killer, a torturer who targeted young girls to kill and drink their blood.
'...Elizabeth, serial killer?' King looked at her face. She was smiling brightly, excited for her final performance.
'...Yeah, right.'
Well, maybe she was. But it was hard to imagine the teenage idol in front of him to be capable of anything like that.
Now, her older, future self on the other hand…
That reminded him. 'So things like that can happen to servants, huh?' It was a somewhat strange concept to him. For an older and younger version of the same person to be summoned not only as separate beings, but at the same time. Weren't servants supposed to all be summoned in their primes?
He wasn't sure about much, back in his own world and even more so in this world, but right now, he was sure of exactly one thing.
"Eli."
"Yeah?"
"You're the greatest idol. Ever."
"...Really?"
"Yeah."
She was to him.
Every idol he saw could claim that they sang with the most angelic voice, the fanciest dance, the prettiest outfit.
But only the idol beside him could say that she saved his life by overcoming her older self.
If that wasn't deserving of him calling her his oshi, then nothing would.
"Go out there, Eli. Kill it."
"...Yeah, I will! Thanks, President, for everything!"
'Thank you too, Eli.'
As Elizabeth ran from his side and to the stage, he couldn't help but actually feel happy for once, genuinely happy since his luck brought him to this world.
Yeah, he got teleported to this messy, violent, and also dying world. And he still didn't know what, who, how, or why, all without a way back. And yeah, he also had several close calls with death, all of which he only avoided due to timely interventions from Karna and the others.
But he met an idol! Saw an idol show in person for the first time in years! He also… Well, that's it, huh? Maybe he could say meeting Jean was a boon, but that was a bit of a reach.
Still, tomorrow should be a breeze, judging from what Olga said, so he had to say…
'It was kinda worth it for this.'
"Senpai… Are you sure you're okay?"
"Fou."
Ritsuka attempted to answer, but only slurry sounds that could barely be called sentences came out.
"Just leave him be for a bit. He fell right on his head, but it wasn't on concrete or anything too hard. He should be back up in a few minutes." Archer said.
"R-right, Mister Archer."
Slowly, sense returned to Ritsuka's mind, and Mash's face was the first thing that wasn't a swirl in his vision.
"Senpai? Sen–Pai? Are you there?"
Ritsuka groaned. "Yeah, yeah I am. Don't worry too much about me, Mash."
"...Senpai?"
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Is there something wrong? I've been… noticing things. You haven't been the same for a few days now." The shielder confessed. She looked worried, really worried. To the point where it made Ritsuka guilty.
Ritsuka opened his mouth to tell her 'I'm fine', but it stopped right before his tongue. She deserved better than that, better than a lie.
The young master withdrew his hands, and put them under his chin.
"Maybe… maybe I should tell you, Mash."
The show was over.
The clock struck midnight, it was the start of the final day.
King should be sleeping right about now, but there was one final thing he needed to do.
"Jean. It's been a while."
"Yes it has. King."
Hey.
This marks the end of the idol subplot.
I hope you all enjoyed it.
Before I go any further, I am someone who thinks that credit should be credited where it is due. So, without further ado, shoutouts to:
Mitsuharu Fukuyama for Baka Mitai
ZENTA for So Much More
Kiyo for Heartbreak Mermaid
Yuri Fukuda for Machine Gun Kiss
Hidenori Shoji for Get to The Top!
And Ryosuke Horii for writing all of the above.
My ass would not survive writing actual songs.
So, onto the chapter itself.
Eh... Idk
I don't think it's my best work, but I made it somehow. Initially, the last chapter and this one were meant to be one singular chapter, but I got way too engrossed in the fights from last chapter and the individual character introspections in this one to make them both fit in one single chapter.
Also, I know fitting 500k people in a single city, a medieval city at that, for one show is unrealistic, but just... imagine it. Please.
Next chapter will be the reunion of King and Jean, and the dawn of the final day.
Tell me what you think about this chapter.
Later.