Summary: On one hand, an outlaw who had died at the age of 21. The other, a Native American who fought to the bitter end for his family and land. What was the moment where they both came together for a mutual cause?

No, it wasn't a "what." It was all for a "who."

Note: With the 2024 US Election having killed a lot of my hope from the public voting in someone that would actively (and knowingly) hurt my loved ones without mercy — it was Carim/partialdignity who gave me the idea to cover these two Servants.

America was one of the first stories I really loved in FGO proper, so it feels right going back.

The theme for this chapter is the FGO Solomon movie version of outbreak. Considering it is the song that properly introduces all of the Servant allies for the final battle of Part 1, I wanted to use it. As for the song that's mentioned in the chapter itself? Please look towards the orgel/music box version of Legend of Mermaid from Mermaid Melody: Pitchi Pitchi Pitch. Because with a childhood show of mine reaching 20 years, I had to honor that too. With lyric references to AmaLee's English cover of the song, to boot.

Otherwise, an honorary theme mention actually has to go to the STAR TRAIN instrumental mix that was used with a manga exclusive AMV made for the end of Oshi no Ko's story. I was listening to it to finish the chapter for inspiration, and so had to bring it here. Because even if the general consensus for that manga ending was not good at best, I enjoyed it.

Here we go.

Day 86: Old and Young Eyes

"The Celts on one side, a rag-tag team of Servants on the other…" Billy absently whistled to himself while polishing his pistol with a cloth. "We definitely have a stacked battle, don't we, old man?"

"That is how war is, isn't it, young invader?" Geronimo tried not to roll his eyes in favor of polishing his own knife, the light of the campfire nearby illuminating his clearing reflection in the blade. "But at least this time…" he glanced past his own reflected image to the other side of the fire pit, feeling a grin start to form on his face at the scene playing out in front of him.

This time we have help. Enthusiastic help, at that.

"So the Yew Bow is a crossbow! I read about Robin Hood being amazing in archery, but to use a crossbow…!"

The only other outlaw in the near vicinity was starting to flush pink, and Geronimo knew the Archer had not touched a single drop of liquor. The close proximity of the one human in their group probably wasn't helping him. "I-It's not something to really be proud of…"

"But it is! With the way it's built, from the yew tree branches and the simple arrow-launching mechanism, all the way to how you use it to throw everyone off guard in battle—!" Vy, the single Chaldean Master tasked with saving all of Proper Human History, looked more like a squealing child with how much she was clapping her hands, brown eyes sparkling behind her glasses. "It looks really really cool to me!"

Robin could've put an overly ripe apple to shame with how red he turned at the praise. He even dropped all his share of gathered firewood.

Thanks to his seat at the sidelines, Billy took one look at his fellow Archer before turning his head to hide a snicker.

"Now, now, Lady Vy." A heavy hand then set itself on top of her hair, causing Vy to make a soft Muu of protest when turning to look up at the Celtic Lancer doing it. The ally Diarmuid — so much more dressed and formal than the enemy version that accompanied Fionn and Fergus, who had run away earlier to who knows where — smiled politely at his pouting Master, patting her head in response to her next Muu . "I understand you are excited, but you must conserve your energy. Too much praise can make even the best men shiver, so to speak as your knight, please do try to keep it to a minimum."

Geronimo couldn't miss how the ally Lancer emphasized "your" in that sentence, and he clamped down on the urge to shiver.

Even if no one was saying it, there was no denying the lingering air of mine that hung around Diarmuid's words that ironically harkened back to the Lancer of his former King, trying to court the one Demi-Servant of their group.

(Not that Diarmuid would ever seem to want to admit it, considering his previous battle with his other self and his former liege. Nor did Geronimo want to push it.)

(Their little Chaldean Master was angry enough at the enemy Celts just for their attempts at trying to take her "kouhai." And wars did not need more emotional outbursts. Especially with the Berserker Head Nurse nearby, who had to be quiet just to treat the cursed King of Kosala for surviving the night.)

Vy pouted with another Muu, but still deflated at the headpats (though that may have had something to do with the scolding look the one other Archer, the later arrival in the red-wearing EMIYA, sent her past his self-made station stirring the stew that made up their dinner), closing her eyes and softly clapping her hands together. Compared to the applause she gave to Robin (and the far more subdued version she had given to Nero and Elisabeth, who had run off for some "singing practice"), this clap was quieter — almost as if to regain composure as she took a deep breath. "…Okay, Dia. That's fair."

Inhale, exhale. It's hard to miss how the liveliness seems to fade from the air with that gesture.

Even the excited flush that previously covered Vy's cheeks faded for a faint pink as she eventually smiled up at both Diarmuid and Robin, sheepishness tinging her expression. "...I'm sorry for rambling, Dia, Robin. I guess I did get carried away, meeting a childhood hero." The subsequent laugh that leaves her lips sounds self-deprecating and — and sad as she shakes her head, pumping both fists to herself. "Besides, I already learned the hard lesson of not putting people up on pedestals, anyway! No need to repeat that!"

Just then, Geronimo can't hide the shiver that unconsciously climbed up his spine. There's no mistaking the minute widening of Robin's eyes, the subdued clack of the handle of EMIYA's ladle hitting the side of his cooking pot from his uncharacteristic motion of dropping it, or the quiet withdrawal of Diarmuid's hand either.

After all, the tiny flickering growth of Vy's shadow in the light of their shared campfire was hard to ignore.

Thank goodness Billy speaks up with a chuckle then, breaking the new silence with a twirl of his pistol (that Geronimo knows is exaggerated). "In that case, Vy, what d'ya think is better for a hero? Crossbows, knives, o' guns?"

Geronimo felt his hand freeze before he could think of putting away his cleaning cloth. Because of course the Archer would say something like that to break the ice. "…Young invader," came out in a voice that sounded almost foreign to him if not for the faint hint of amusement. "Did you have to include my weapon of choice too?"

"Why not?" Billy grins with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "The old man Robin is too stubborn to take me up on gunpowder! So why not ask the nice young lassie for all of us, Geronimo?"

Near Mash and Nightingale, a quiet Marie Antoinette giggles. It's definitely in response to the muted "Oi," of protest that comes from the other part of their Rogue Servant trio, because the lingering flush on the face of Sherwood Forest's one ranger was undeniable. "I told you, Billy, I'm not that old."

"Says the guy who didn't die at 21!"

"Screw you too."

"Huh… what's better for a hero…?" Yet Vy didn't notice any of it, and when she adjusted her glasses to blink at all of them—

Geronimo felt himself unconsciously gulp.

Stars were shining in Vy's brown eyes again, reflecting both the young invader's image and his own past her glasses. "…I'm not sure. It's kinda hard to really judge that when all of you are heroes in being Heroic Spirits who kept America alive before Chaldea got here, isn't it?"

The air smells sweeter to match the honest sincerity lacing every word. And Geronimo knew the sudden glimpse of lotus petals dotting Vy's shadow beyond her tree stump seat wasn't an illusion, so he forced himself to swallow. To his relief, he can vaguely hear Billy murmur, "…Well, I'll be," from his side too.

Because really. What could any of them say to that, coming from the last human Master of Proper Human History?

"...Um, but I guess that doesn't really answer the original question, huh?" A softer, gentler giggle leaves Vy's lips, and her left hand comes up to scratch at her cheek, unconsciously illuminating the bright red lotus-shaped Command Seals sitting against the white knuckles there. "I guess, and this is just me speaking from my point of view, there's pros and cons to each weapon that makes them work, I think!" Then Vy lowers said left hand and starts counting off her fingers, brows furrowing thoughtfully past her hair. "From what I remember of the movies and history books, crossbows can be hard to load in a pinch, but can hit targets multiple times without needing to pull the string back with your arm. Guns can be quick with the shot, but if you miss, you still need to reload or deal with potential recoil damage!"

Billy whistles, just as Robin tries speaking up with a subdued, "Hey, Vy, I don't think you need to—!", just to save face.

Geronimo? Geronimo knew he didn't have to say anything.

There was no point.

Amazingly, none of it — the idols' faraway singing, Robin's quiet attempt at a protest, or even Billy's growing admiration — seemed to truly reach her.

Vy just kept talking. Sitting up straight, counting off fingers and folding them into her palm and all, as if summing up some kind of presentation. Confidently, at that. (Like a silent wallflower who had finally been given a chance to speak up. Like someone who finally had a chance to let loose.) "The thing is, guns can get jammed too, especially if you don't reload the bullet chamber correctly, which isn't good if it goes off in your hand. And that's not even going into what happens if a bullet gets lodged in a not-so-vital area — enemies could still try to lunge at you unless you can reload a clip. Knives on the other hand can hack and slash, but if they get lodged in a body and you can't get it out, the durability of it could be compromised and you could be left without a weapon. And if you're too far away to throw it—!"

"...Be," EMIYA interjects then, shaking his head while picking up his ladle to stir in some scavenged herbs that Diarmuid passes him, "you're rambling again."

"Huh?" Apparently EMIYA's quip was all it took for the moment to stop because Vy immediately flushed red. "...Oh. Uh. Oops."

Billy suddenly coughed into his elbow. Probably to hide another snicker, no doubt.

With visible hesitation (and a steadily growing blush), Vy lowers her hands to her lap, curling up into herself and ducking her head soon after. If Geronimo didn't know any better, the young Master would have resembled a meek child who had just been scolded by her parents instead of a young woman barely aging out of her teenage years. "Um…" then comes out in a wispier voice, fading in and out of audible range. Her fingers proceed to wrinkle the hems of her Mystic Code skirt to match. "I-I read up on a lot. Anything I could borrow from the library and buy from the bookstore, really. J-Just in case, back in high school and college. I-I did want to be a lab tech assistant to Dr. Roman before becoming a Master, so um…" Her voice cracks. "N-No offense intended? I-I'm sorry if I did cause any! B-Because I really meant to say that all the weapons are valid!"

Geronimo slowly smiled and shook his head. "No offense taken, Vy. The praise is appreciated."

At that moment, Marie lets out a soft cooing noise (which Mash matches with her own squeal). Something along the lines of, "Vy, you are so cute!", to summarize the situation. And well.

It takes Robin mumbling, "…You are a treat," to the blushing Vy that Billy glances at Geronimo with a giant grin.

…Hey, ol' man, the gunslinger Archer mouthed to him while holstering his pistol, wanna place any bets on when Robin's gonna realize he's fallen head over heels for the lassie?

Geronimo rolled his eyes. Young invader, he thought to himself, that is a sucker's bet when he's already fallen for her.

The last thing Geronimo expected to hear the night before the planned assassination of Cu Chulainn Alter was a song.

Compared to the "songs" that came from Nero and Elisabeth, the melody he could faintly hear from the edges of their campground was very much in-tune, soft and sweet to match the original person championing it. No way "off-key" either. And even without a microphone, there was no mistaking that high pitched voice carefully serenading the stars with no one else awake to listen.

" Colors on the wind floating from a different world

Greet the dawn with a song to welcome the daybreak~!

It's a melody I hear in my memory

Where I watch birds take flight off into the eastern sky."

Geronimo knew the young invader and Robin were slowly stirring too at the sound of Vy's voice, so before the others could beat him to the punch, Geronimo sat up and pushed his tent flaps back.

"No time to waste—

Can we escape to a place where the treasure lies?

Out here on the seven seas,

We will find our paradise!"

When standing up and looking past the long-since-faded campfire, the moon and the one giant ring past it all merely shone down on the one human of their party. The source of the new song that, in all probable honesty, put both Nero and Elisabeth to shame. The shared light merely illuminated Vy's tiny form — her nightgown and long brown hair and all — as she faced the everlong sky.

"Can we be reborn in the wake of the storm

So that I can tell you the words of my heart?

There is so much I would give to you,

But in one life, there is not enough time!"

How Vy woke up in the middle of the night and didn't find herself cold in her current attire (especially without a blanket too) was certainly odd enough. Even if Geronimo could guess she carved out the one safe cliffside for herself, far away from the other singing Servants, just to practice. Or have a moment of solitary peace. Either way was certainly within her character to act on.

No matter the reason, considering the very real threat of their shared enemy, Geronimo couldn't blame her for any of it. Perhaps that was why her song sounded half nostalgic, half sad and lonely past the humble beauty in her occasional wobbly note. His place in the foliage made it sound as much at least.

"Underneath the waves, there is a melody—

Telling our story of faraway lands.

I'll sing along, so I won't forget—

So through this song, may the tale live on…!"

Vy exhales as soon as she finishes the last line, a long-winded sort of breath. Geronimo knows just from watching her that he's not the only one interested in the spectacle she was making for herself. The barely audible rustling of grass and twigs made it clear his fellow Rogue Servants heard the whole thing too. (And were undoubtedly just as curious as he was. "Great minds think alike," apparently.)

"…Hey," Billy whispers suddenly over Geronimo's shoulder, a smirk emerging in his voice, "why ain't she an idol? She's one hella lot better than the other two. Just gotta get that Queen Marie and we'd be all set for that Broadway street or whatever."

"Don't ask me." Robin hissed back. There's a subsequently small whack noise that seems to indicate he had elbowed his fellow Archer. "And don't say that in front of the others, Billy, else I don't think they'll ever forgive you."

"What's there t'forgive when they broke my ears—?!"

Then all of a sudden, without any warning whatsoever, Vy sneezes. Once, twice, thrice, right into the crook of her hastily extended right arm with growing volume. Her shoulders shook from the backlash — the sneezes being loud enough to cause even some birds to fly away from their nests in the trees up above. A clumsy kind of Fweh echoed in the air soon after that, and as if coming back to reality, Vy shakes her head, long brown hair tangling up with the collar of her nightgown. Her hands immediately come up to rub at her arms, matching the trembling of her bare legs. She was shivering. "D-Darn it…"

…Well. The illusion was long gone. It was hard enough to keep watch after that.

"Welp," Billy said for them all, almost cheerily too. "My pain aside — who's up for being a good fella of a Prince Charming? We got a cutie village lassie who could use a blankie!"

It was why Geronimo was only mildly surprised to hear Robin mumble a pointedly exasperated, "Oh, goddammit," over his shoulder before more rustling echoed behind him. (Because Billy must have known what he was insinuating for Robin to respond with something so heated like that. Especially for a girl who had just been fawning over him for the past few days since their first meeting. Who knew all it took to unravel their friend's heart was a single girl's honesty?) A few footsteps was all it took for the green Archer to emerge from Geronimo's shadow, and he felt himself step to the side to make room before he realized he was doing it, only able to watch as Robin slowly unclasped the latch of his cloak.

Called it, Billy mouthed triumphantly when Geronimo glanced at him. Young invader "vibes" indeed, or so Elisabeth had claimed when they had brought the Resistance party all together. What the modern folk called good "language" was beyond Geronimo's understanding.

Vy let out a shocked squeal once the No Face May King landed on top of her head, but once she was turning around to look at all of them too, Geronimo shrugged his shoulders with a smile. Just to match Billy's growing grin as they both left their hiding spot to close the distance between themselves and Humanity's last Master with cheer.

Because for the last Master to be a simple girl again, why wouldn't a Heroic Spirit humor her with good company?

"R-Robin? Billy? Geronimo?" Pink starts to color Vy's cheeks past her crooked glasses, big brown eyes darting between each of them with shock. "H-H-How much of that did you hear?"

"Why are you not saying, 'thank you,' for the extra blanket instead?" Robin shot back, covering up his own faintly growing blush with a hasty cough into his tunic collar. (Most likely because his cloak looked almost like a bride's veil when sitting on top of Vy's head. Geronimo smiled at it nonetheless.) "You were going to catch a cold at the rate you were going, Master."

Vy raised a shaky hand to tug at one of the hems of the No Face May King, hesitantly wrapping it around herself after staring at Robin for a while. "S-Sure, you got me there, and thankie very very much for the nice green blankie, but this blankie is still a Noble Phantasm, Robin! I-It's yours, and, a-and I'm not exactly Master material yet to deserve it!"

"Still better than anyone else I've seen in terms of Masters. So at least borrow my Noble Phantasm to keep warm tonight. Us Servants don't get colds, Master. You could, and definitely would've if you stayed out here any longer by yourself." With one rough hand reaching out to gently pat her head through his mantle, Robin finished with a louder, "So there."

"M-Muu…"

Funny he calls her that already when they arguably haven't even established an official contract yet, Billy mouths, this time whistling when Robin rounds on him with a glare. Because of course the young invader would provoke his fellow Archer. For the short time they had gotten to know each other, it felt like something he would do. And at least when compared to their previous fights with the Celts, Billy looked alive when poking this snake's nest.

"…We still heard just 'bout everything, lassie," Billy says instead to Vy, answering for both Robin and Geronimo along the way. He even goes about winking at her when she (expectedly) gapes at him for good measure. Crossing his arms behind his neck, he whistles a bit louder while tipping his head towards her, mimicking the tune Vy had sung only minutes ago with a sparkle in his blue eyes. "N' I gotta say — it was hella cute! Just from ya singing, I'd reckon ya oughta teach those wannabe 'idols' some proper singing etiquette! They'd at least listen to ya!"

Almost as if on cue, Vy turned bright red (to match her blushing green Archer of a childhood hero, it seemed) before shaking her head like an otter. "Nah, nah, nah, nweh, I-I-I definitely dunno about that, Billy! Daddy's always been a better singer than me, and I-I'm still practicing! Besides! We still have to get through tomorrow!" She puffs her cheeks out at him and Robin as if to cover up her cracking voice — a motion that made both men proceed to turn their heads away to hide incoming laughter — before she turns to Geronimo with the same petulant look. "Sh-Should I know about anything else, Geronimo-san?!"

For being addressed with such a foreign honorific, something that was certainly not American in origin, all Geronimo found himself doing was tipping his own head back to heartily chuckle. Perhaps to match his own outlaw friends, considering how panicky Humanity's last Master was becoming. Still…

Even if you are not part of my original family…

"N-No, young miss, no. You are… pft, you are just fine."

You are a part of my future.

And he meant it. Every single bit of it.

"…We truly drew the short end of the stick, haven't we, old friend?"

Geronimo knew Billy couldn't answer. He was already fading thanks to Arjuna's previous arrows, with Nero too already gone. The rubble of the Roman Emperor's previously glorious Noble Phantasm was just cold against his back, and there was nowhere else to go. After all, Queen Medb was still sitting on the ruined throne of Nero's Golden Theater, smiling without a care in the world as her "Cu-chan" raised his cursed spear.

But why did they matter?

Even if the blood spilled onto the ground would be wasted in the long run of this war—

What Medb or Cu would say wouldn't matter. It didn't matter.

Compared to the last human who had hugged him and Billy tight before this whole failed assassination attempt, whispering, "Good luck," into their ears with all the warmth and kindness a single girl could muster, nothing the Celts could do would truly hurt anymore.

Because he knew. Even past his weak hands, Geronimo could see hints of lotus petals dotting his numbed fingers.

Goodness, he could even hear the familiar song of a flower of determination humming in the back of his mind as he made one last smile at the stupefied Queen of the Celts. The fake Queen of America, who was clearly starting to fume at not getting the satisfaction she wanted out of his looming death.

"Queen Medb. For my last words, I have a prophecy for you."

The cursed Gae Bolg from Medb's bastard of a king aimed right for his head, but Geronimo grinned wider. Just for himself and the others who were already gone.

"You may die happy, but you will die soon. With your cursed king and all. Our young miss of a Master that you have clearly underestimated from the very beginning of your reign will certainly guarantee that at your very end."

After all, Robin will be there with her. And there is no stopping someone like her.

The dull sensation of his skull caving in was not even that much of a saving grace compared to the absolute displeasure on his enemy's face as he finally faded.

Floating ether. Wispy mana. There was not much to talk about when returning to the Throne of Heroes, but even with memories intact, Geronimo couldn't help but wonder.

Did they win?

Did Chaldea save our home?

Did our young miss—

No one was around to answer.

Yet as soon as Geronimo blinked, something was tugging at his hand past his torn jacket. It was a gentle presence despite its transience, something that smelled vaguely sweet, and by the time a lotus petal brushed the tip of his nose, Geronimo knew.

His shattered Spirit Origin was repairing itself, his broken skull was returning to its original state, and—

"…I'm coming, young miss," he murmured to himself, extending his hand towards the light as it started to dawn on his incorporeal form. "There's no need to pull on me."

Not when I could never refuse you.

The light and flower petals that start to swirl around him actually sing of the same hope and relief he could remember from before his own past death, just to match his growing joy.

His bare feet touch the ground long before he can open his eyes. The floor of his new place — his new home — feels cold against his toes as he regains a standing place, and blinking slowly reveals a blonde head of hair in his peripheral vision.

…She really did it.

"…Hey, old man," A reborn Billy the Kid murmurs not even a few feet away, missing his black gunslinger jacket from the last time they were together, but familiar blue eyes still sparkling with cheerful mirth when returning his gaze. "Guess we both kicked the bucket n' came back, huh?"

"…It appears that we did, young invader. And this time..." Geronimo glances around, taking note of the blue walls and floors before focusing on the center of the room. Past the central dais where they both stood as new Servants, right at the open entrance, a single human girl stared at them from past the space provided to her by a clean green mantle, unmistakable tears shining past the stars in her big brown eyes.

This time, with her, we are safe.

Because the root cause of their rebirth was the girl was looking at them, the girl whose mana was now gently keeping them tethered to their new reality like they had never left.

Master.

"…Hello again, young miss," Geronimo starts gently, the almost fatherly smile on his face instinctively forming just at the mere sight of Vy staring up at them. And compared to their first meeting in America, she was staring up at them. Not Robin, but them. Just them.

(Although with the May King offering her a space within his mantle spoke volumes of other things. Such as how he had already been summoned back first. How his wry yet fond smile in Vy's direction made it look like his caught feelings had only grown stronger since Geronimo ordered him to abandon Cu Alter's assassination, just to go back to her. No matter the case, Geronimo could inquire later.)

Billy merely whistled a soft, happy kind of tune towards their new liege in solidarity, picking up Geronimo's greeting and winking in the silent Robin's direction over Vy's head along the way. "Hey, hey, we're back~! Did ya wait long for us, lassie?"

"N-No…" The first droplet leaks past her glasses to slide down the slope of one cheek, much to Robin's visible shock if the raised hem of No Face May King was any indication. Nonetheless, Vy still smiles, gently waving off the green Archer's hand while wiping at her face with one sleeve of her tiny cloak. A Mages' Association cloak? "I-I mean, yes, but no, but—" Vy chokes, unintentionally making the easygoing smile slide straight off Billy's face. "Just… Just…"

Billy then whistles a little louder, as if trying his luck at bringing more lighthearted cheer into the room. Because apparently even outlaws were weak to a lady's tears, considering the small furrow of his brow past his bangs. "…What, no holler o' anything for us when coming back, lassie? Right after you saved the USA for us?"

A minute tremble of Vy's bottom lip is all the warning they get before she bends her knees and jumps forward. Outstretched arms and all.

…Oh. That's new.

It takes all of Geronimo's strength to catch the catapulting Vy once she collides with him and Billy, but not even instinct saves his legs from buckling at the resulting force. His fellow gunslinger's own shocked "Whoa" made it clear all three of them were going to hit the floor soon at the rate they were falling together. So all Geronimo could do was attempt to maneuver himself in such a way so that his body could take the brunt of the collision in Vy's stead, and judging by Billy's own quiet "Oof", he had the same idea.

After all, allowing their Master to get hurt mere minutes after officially becoming her Servants would've felt like a betrayal of the trust they already were growing to have again. Catching their little miss was the least Geronimo could do. And past the earthy slam of gravity at work, Geronimo could vaguely hear Robin yell something as his back hits the cold hard tile.

Yes, his muscles ache, his arms sting, his ears ring, but…

Vy is safely lying on top of him and Billy, completely unharmed. And—

To his growing shock, Vy was trembling. And Geronimo knew Billy could feel it too.

"…Vy?" Billy eventually tries in a genuinely softer voice past his own armfuls of their shared Master, a gloved hand carefully reaching up to pat one shaking shoulder. "Ya doin' okay, lassie?"

It's thanks to Geronimo not wearing his jacket that he can then feel the unmistakable bitter warmth of tears starting to soak the crook between his shoulder and neck. There's a gurgle of a laugh echoing between them as Vy both nods and shakes her head, hugging him and Billy tight with her arms around their necks. She squeezes, not enough to choke, but certainly conveying her intent to not let go, and compared to their last meeting, it was almost desperate. "W-Welcome back… Billy… Geronimo…" she sniffles, a half-sob, half-laugh brushing their ears as she ducks her head and hugs them tighter. Her long brown hair tickles their cheeks just as she shakily whispers, "Welcome back."

I missed you, I believed in you, I wanted to see you—

Geronimo made eye contact with the young invader next to him before ducking his head and hugging their shared Master back. The watery feeling of his own smile could be handled later. Robin could be greeted later as well. For now—

"…We're back, young miss."

Saying that much felt sufficient enough with the mutual tears soaking into his skin.

"Sooo…"

Robin looked elsewhere, rubbing at his sleeved arm with a bit more vigor than usual. "…What?"

Even to Geronimo's trained eye, the look on Billy's face in regards to the faintly new golden glow surrounding their May King friend's Spirit Origin was nothing but proud and, as modern folk would put it, shit-eating. Perhaps it was good fortune that Vy wasn't here for this card game conversation. It wasn't something Robin wanted to hear, from the looks of it. Yet Billy chortled, "Aaaaaaany luck with the lassie — oh, wait, I meant ya little sparrow — after we left? Considering you're hella sparkling now, Robin."

Red starts to color the tips of Robin's ears, right before he throws his hood over his head, slapping a card down onto the center of the table. "Shut up, Billy. That's a horrible joke and it's none of your business."

Geronimo just smiled.

Sucker's bet it was.

Life in Chaldea after all that was almost… peaceful compared to his time alive. Singularity and Lostbelt dives aside, nonetheless. Every single Servant was kind to welcome two more into their ranks, the white walls and halls were comforting with their ambient mana flow in spite of the monochrome atmosphere, Wandering Sea or the original included, and what colored it all was—

"Little sparrow, do you really have a good hold on that?"

"I-I got this, Big Robin, I got this!"

Even when regaining his signature black jacket with a new red scarf and cowboy hat, Billy merely tips his head towards the back of their shared Master to hide a growing grin, rolling his eyes at Robin's sideways scandalized look over Vy's head. Because of course. Their little young miss had apparently taken it upon herself to stubbornly carry at least three boxes of… something to the Enhancement Center (which wasn't really a full surprise anymore). And despite not falling yet, in all fairness, Geronimo had to take the May King's side when it came to the figure she was cutting for herself.

Because really. Even with Robin anxiously hovering nearby and a few years of experience tempering the shyness of her first appearance, Vy still looked small to Geronimo's eye, her long brown hair dwarfing her back thanks to the tower of boxes in her arms. The lotus ribbon clip keeping her ponytail together was a beautiful brief distraction from the true problem, but with the way her knees looked close to buckling from the weight and how the boxes could easily knock her over from their shared height—

A single sneeze — just like back in America — could easily do her in.

Not again.

Geronimo elbowed his fellow rogue with a sigh, ignoring Billy's faked "Hey" of protest in favor of taking the topmost box off of Vy's little tower. "Young miss, at least allow us to help you."

"But Geronimo…"

"No buts, young miss. We would be rather poor Servants to not help with you getting this."

"And I'm with old man Geronimo on that note, little sparrow." It's no surprise to see Robin take the second box from the original tower, shooting Vy a look caught between fondness and exasperation along the way. "Even if your heart's in the right place, so once we're done with what you have planned, we are definitely talking about things later."

"Muuu…"

Geronimo shrugged when Vy sent him a pleading pout of a look, just as Billy pitched in by taking the last box off of their Master's hands. Because in all honesty, some things hadn't changed.

Even if she was an older, more experienced Master, Vy Duong was still a human. His young miss.

And as a Servant, he had to help her bring the world back to the hands of those around her, right? Especially when the Earth and Proper Human History had no place being in the hands of gods or those long dead.

The boxes probably should've been handled with more care, in hindsight. Not that Geronimo felt any less perplexed by the scene playing out in front of him.

Because out of the corner of his eye, bright gold shined bright enough to be blinding. From the center of his own palms, deep bright violet stared back at him, the multifaceted cube of its source in a Crystallized Lore almost taunting him with its gleam. Behind it all, Robin — the once skittish May King who constantly blushed at their young miss genuinely complimenting him — merely grinned like it was his birthday, smirking at the shellshocked Billy nearby as Vy started typing commands into the nearby Palingenesis generator.

Yes, Geronimo and Billy both were not Servants who would personally desire for greater power, but to actually go about holding the vessels for said power in their hands?

Their young miss, typing and shaking and all, was just too much.

Too weak, too kind—

Too human.

Especially when offering one fragment of the crystallization of all of Proper Human History to him, and a goblet of dreams to the young invader at his side.

"...Lassie?" Billy tries first, his voice trembling quietly past the hum of the generator. The light of his Holy Grail illuminates the shock on his face, matching his verbal hesitation when eventually blurting out, "I-I get wanting ta' give a lore to the old man, but a Grail? For me? Ya… ya really serious about it?"

"When hasn't she been?" Robin interjects then, mild in tone despite the easy confidence leaking into his voice, which promptly shocks his fellow Archer into silence. "She Grailed me, Billy. Who says she couldn't Grail you?"

"Uh…" Billy started to blush. "Well, shit."

"And…" Geronimo forces himself to swallow, tearing his gaze away from Billy to look at Vy's back. Her tiny, tiny back, with its shaking shoulders and long brown hair and lotus ribbon clip, just as she turns to look at him. "Not to doubt you, but are you sure about using this Lore with, with me, young miss? I haven't…"

The skills to protect you as much as I could've for my family, for the American Resistance, for the victims of the Lostbelts, and yet for you—

Yet Vy faced him and Billy with a bright, bright smile. The stars from America shine in her big brown eyes past her glasses, just as some strands of hair fall out of her ponytail to frame her face. "...Aye. For two of America's heroes who helped me when I was still growing," she said in a soft voice, leaning into Robin's side and arm as soon as he wordlessly offered the space to her. (Just like the moment of their resummoning.) "The least I could do is give them a chance to keep growing with me, right? To honor everything in the past, and to go into the future."

Geronimo closes his eyes. Then Billy throws his Grail away. Being tugged along is a feeling he's gotten used to since becoming a Servant, but to hear the high-pitched squeal of their young miss echo in his periphery once elbows bump with each other, just as they all close in on the one human of the room for a well-deserved group hug — well.

Perhaps the sucker's bet that Geronimo had heard from his young invader friend at the very beginning of this Servant life would have to be revised. Because with the "Vy sandwich" he himself, Billy, and Robin were making around their young Master in gratitude—

In hindsight, there probably should've been a bet on how long it would take for Vy's kindness and love to influence them too.

Not that Geronimo would pay anyone for it. He could only pay oh so much, and a young Vietnamese girl's kindness was plenty of a reward for the effort in the end.