Anime Tropes Are Bullshit (and Other Woes)

Hedonist Safir & Heretic Merlin #5

By: Aviantei

^^^^
lo0ol

"Please accept my feelings!"

You know exactly what this is. You've seen this scene before, from all possible angles. It's a love confession, simple as that, and a public one, too. It's that second fact that you begrudge the most. This is happening in public, with an audience. It would be a big pain to rewind everyone's perception of time so that this never happened. Maybe the student still tucked into their deep bow and with their ears burning red would try again, but at least you would have preferred to handle the situation in private. After all, there's nothing pleasant about turning down someone's confession, let alone with a nosy and gossiping teenage audience involved.

Because this is how it's going to end: a rejection. It has nothing to do with the student's appearance, not with the long hair styled and accessorized, not the uniform skirt. Those sorts of things mean jack shit in understanding a person anyways—and fuck gender also applies to both assuming things about other people and to your own preferences.

You will, in fact, fuck any gender. You don't have to have any revelatory moments about it, because you've done this shit before. Across your many lives, you've had partners of all kinds, because for you it's all about the person rather than the parts. So long as who you're with understands and respects you, you're good.

That would be the first checkpoint, in some shape or form: asking if they understand you're not a boy or a girl, that you're just you. Except in this case, you're not going to even bother because a simple fact remains.

You remember your past lives enough to know your preferences. Your extensive past lives, all lived experiences tucked away neatly in your skull. You may have the body of a sixteen-year-old, but your mind and soul is that to a ridiculous exponent value. And the person before you, waiting for an answer, is a high school student, a child. The thought of taking advantage of that makes you want to hurl, and you don't even get nauseous that much in this body. So no, no, there's no need to ask anything, because anyone under the age of eighteen—hell, under the age of twenty-five isn't even an option.

So you put on a kind smile, one that's warmer than the expression that you flash when you're on stage. Both are performances, but you like to think that this one is much more genuine. Because even if your answer is a hard no, you still don't want to hurt this stranger's feelings any more than necessary for them to be able to move on.

"I'm flattered," you say, then decide to cut the preamble. Kind, not stringing them along. "But I'm not interested in dating right now." Nor do you see yourself being for quite some time, not with everything you'll be taking care of these next few days. "My schedule is busy right now, so I know that I wouldn't have time to be a good partner." There's still hunting down Morgan le Fey and untangling the mess that is the other Succession Battle Candidates, then the battle itself, not to mention your new positions as student council treasurer and school idol. Sheesh, even if there wasn't an age gap, you wouldn't make anyone put up with that. "But I admire your courage to be upfront about your feelings like that. I'm sure with that determination, you'll find someone who's a better fit for you." Someone who's much more in your age bracket, you keep to yourself.

The student takes it well enough, not overwhelmed to the point of tears, and makes their exit with equal dignity. The watching students around you, though…they break out in whispers right away, as if you're not standing right there. Well, not that it bothers you if they talk about you, that's old hat by now, but the other kid doesn't deserve that. It takes a substantial amount of your willpower not to glare at them all to shut up; it's not like it would accomplish anything. So you pivot on your heel and head back to your classroom without bothering to say a word.

Though it's true that you don't see yourself dating, it still sucks that you even have to say it. In these rounds where you remember, these in-between years are the worst. Anyone who's your physical age is far too young, and anyone who's an adult would have to be scum—real scum and trash, not like Luna is—to be interested in you without knowing your true age, and even then— That thought sends a disgusting set of shivers across your skin, and you tuck the matter away. Focus. Breathe. Priorities. You have way too much going on to even think about it, though you wouldn't mind taking another partner when you're ready. But for now, the prospect can sit to the side, can hold on until it's appropriate.

(Sometimes, you can't help but think, it's easier when you don't remember, when you don't have to worry about all this bullshit.)

The snacks you were so looking forward to go untouched until Luna swipes them for herself. You pretend that you don't notice, though you both know she wouldn't be able to get away with it unless you wanted her to.

^^^^
lo0ol

That afternoon, in the student council chamber, Luna introduces Fuyuse Nayuki as her new secretary, your king grinning as much as ever. Nayuki is polite, dipping into a bow and speaking calmly and casually. But you recognize that deep sadness in her eyes in the handful of seconds you can bring yourself to hold her gaze. Rintarou greets her, as nonchalant as ever, and you can't stand to watch. You gave him the choice, but still—

And so, whispers circulating and time unrelenting, life goes on.

^^^^
lo0ol

You decide that your next course of action needs to involve beating the snot out of someone. And since Morgan le Fey isn't available (damn witch is still keeping herself under wraps, and it's driving you up the fucking wall), the next notable target is Kitaoka Hitoshi.

"Ne, Rintarou-chan," you say, sneaking up on him reading in the manor's parlor and poking him in the back, "you wanna come play bodyguard for a bit?"

His response is a snort as he tilts his head back to make eye contact. "As if you need protecting."

"To be fair, it's way more to protect the other person than me."

Canon Kitaoka Hitoshi is the epitome of shitty anime pervert, not even charming in the slightest. He treats women like property, like prizes to be won, with no real concern for their consent. Rintarou beat the shit out of him in the light novel, and he was justified while doing it, but you're still willing to give Kitaoka a chance. After all, that sort of behavior is learned, he's still just a dumb teenager, Morgan le Fey was egging him on, etc.… But damn if he ends up being just as bad as your memories play him out to be, you don't quite want to be responsible for murder.

Hence, bringing Rintarou along as a precautionary measure.

His smile is lazy, closer to a smirk than anything, but he pulls himself up from his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Alright. I could use another training bout with you, anyways."

You pout. "I'm not sure that I like the implication that you think I'm going to snap and get into a fight anyways."

"If you weren't, would you have bothered to invite me along in the first place?" You scowl at him, and Rintarou laughs, reaching out to tousle your hair. You shove him off, not wanting to bother with fixing it back into its ponytail proper. "I'm teasing, Safir. Besides, you've been tense lately, so I figured a fight would do you some good."

That…sounds nice, sounds like a good way to maybe settle yourself. Yes, you sparred after your failure to find Morgan le Fey, but stress is an ever-building thing, so you need to push it out more, need to process it before you explode.

This round, your body is good at fucking everything. You wouldn't be surprised if that happened to include mental breakdowns, too.

"We'll see how today goes first," you say, needing to save that whole potential disaster for later. If you keep getting into fights in the Antarctic, will that impact the climate? You add building a custom battleground netherworld to your endless as ever list of to-do projects. "Are you ready to go? Or should I give you a little more time to prepare?"

"Nah, I'm good to go." He offers his hand, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Where to, Safir?"

You smile and summon your magic. "Mainland Japan."

^^^^
lo0ol

As someone who has no clue that he's part of the King Arthur Succession Battle, Kitaoka Hitoshi lives a normal life. In fact, the neighborhood you find him in isn't all that different from the one where you first met Rintarou, though you know it's a different place. Still, you catch the faint distaste on his face, that flicker of remembrance.

Well, at least once he meets Hitoshi, he'll have something else to be pissed off about.

"Oh, Rintarou-chan, fair warning," you say when you make it to the doorstep, "Kitaoka Hitoshi? He's kind of the worst."

"Worse than Luna?"

"Worse than Luna."

Rintarou pulls a face, and you spin towards the door, preparing yourself. Because you're going to try to negotiate like a decent human being, you ring the doorbell instead of barging straight on in. Hitoshi's parents both decided that today would be a great day to be out, so he answers the door: an unimpressive-looking kid with brown hair and dressed in the classic lounge around the house combo of shorts and a t-shirt. Unobtrusive. Normal.

And beyond confused by the appearance of two strangers standing in front of his door.

"Kitaoka Hitoshi-kun, yes?" you say, as if you don't already know. He nods, still looking stunned. "You can call me Safir. This here is Rintarou-chan."

You gesture behind your shoulder, and Rintarou raises his hand in a wave. "Yo."

"Ah…yo," Kitaoka says, seemingly only capable of parroting him. Well, if he's not going to talk or ask questions, you will.

"This may sound out of nowhere, but you're a descendant of King Arthur." Canon didn't dedicate much time at all to how Hitoshi found out about his linage, but you guess it was a very last-minute thing—which gave Morgan le Fey the perfect opportunity to take advantage of him. Kitaoka just continues to stare at you, seeming conflicted between listening more and just shutting the door in your face. "In short, magic is real—" you summon a flame over your hand for emphasis "—and next year you'll participate in the King Arthur Succession Battle."

The flame in your palm reflects in Kitaoka's eyes, and he looks on in awe. "Wait, you're saying…" He sucks in a breath, the pure excitement on his face almost enough to make you forget his canonical nonsense. "Whoa, this is rad! This is some fantasy action stuff right here. So does that mean I get to be the hero?!"

You give Rintarou a glance, begging for help. Yes, you wanted to get this over with, but maybe your choice of words led to Kitaoka thinking that he's chosen by destiny or something? Which wouldn't be all that out there of an assumption if it weren't for the fact that Luna exists, so yeah.

"If you want to be a hero, you're going to have to earn it," you say. Morgan le Fey's general strategy with Kitaoka was to make him think he had some kind of 'divine right' bullshit for being the 'hero,' and nope, you're not dealing with that. "Rintarou-chan and I here are more like messengers, so we're not here to train you or anything. But I thought I'd let you know what you can expect." And hope that maybe, just maybe, you can make a difference in this dumb shitty character.

"R-right. Well, I'm sure I'll find some sort of mentor or another…Wait a minute." Kitaoka pauses, looks you over, his eyes catching on the faint curve of your chest, your hips. You dressed more masculine on purpose today, just to avoid this BS, but, nope, there's no avoiding this, now is there? "You're a girl?"

Anger, hot and unrelenting, washes through you, but you prevent yourself from snapping and curb stomping Kitaoka Hitoshi right then and there. You should earn a medal. And yet, through no fault of your own, a blade still whips through the air, catching the light as it flashes over your shoulder, the point poking against Kitaoka's throat just enough to draw blood—Rintarou's white sword, to be specific.

"Watch it," he growls, and Kitaoka yelps. "You keep talking like that, and see what happens."

"I'd appreciate it if you don't assume to know anything about me, Kitaoka-kun," you say, maintaining a dangerous calm in your voice. "I'm not a girl, nor am I a boy—and none of that matters to you whatsoever. Understand?" He doesn't understand, you can tell it in his eyes, and Kitaoka whimpers. "Rintarou-chan. You're scaring him. Put the sword away."

Rintarou harrumphs, but his sword retracts. There's no sound of the blade returning to its sheath, nor the ripple of illusion magic making it invisible, though, which is sweet of him, albeit not super productive for the conversation at hand.

"As I was saying, Kitaoka-kun," you continue, reminding him that you're here. Oh, if only he knew that you were the scary one out of the two of you. "Putting aside your problematic assumptions, if I were a girl, I wouldn't appreciate the way you're looking at me right now. In fact, I still don't appreciate it, so if you could stop acting like I'm something to jerk off to, that would be cool."

Kitaoka gapes at you, as if no one has ever talked back to him before. As if he's never considered that people don't like the way his mind goes. It catches up to him a few seconds later, his face burning red. "That's…! I wasn't…!" Yeah, you're not buying that whatsoever. When you give him an unimpressed look, he flushes darker, confirming your suspicions. "What's it matter what I was thinking?! Isn't something like that supposed to be a compliment?!"

"You sure I can't stab him?"

"Rintarou-chan."

"Fine, fine!" Rintarou resumes grumbling, but at least there aren't swords flying yet. You can't help but think that it sure would be fun to turn Kitaoka into a smudge on the ground, but that's not productive now is it? Come to think of it, he was a punk from an unknown family in the succession battle, right? Who would there even be to replace him if necessary?

You maintain your smile, though it's doubtless twitching. "Kitaoka-kun," you say, trying not to scream, "I want you to know that it's not a compliment. In fact, it feels pretty damn gross. Since I'm willing to bet that no one's ever said that to your face before, I figured I'd let you know. You have no right to other people or their bodies. Also, it's not my job to make you learn how to be a better person, so here's the deal:

"You have…" You make a show of pausing, eyebrows raised as you check an imaginary watch. "About a year or so to figure it out. If you're still like this by the next time we meet, well…" You give him a dangerous flash of teeth. "Then you'll wish that I let my friend over here get his hands on you."

You are willing to give people chances—after all, this Kitaoka Hitoshi hasn't done anything yet—but you have no patience for people who squander them. If he makes it to the King Arthur Succession Battle and acts out against Luna, Emma—hell, anyone—then he'll see what you're capable of.

The Religious Order of Saint Joan is still trapped in your Netherworld, after all, and they're not even close to getting out.

It takes him a while, but you can see it, can see how it at long last dawns on Kitaoka that he should be very, very afraid of you, the way his face drains of color and distorts into terror. Or maybe that's just the reaction anyone would have whenever Rintarou's radiating such a murderous intent. Maybe you shouldn't have brought him along as backup; he's just as bad as you are, maybe even worse.

Yeah, you think Kitaoka gets the message to not fuck with you two.

You clap your hands together, more to make sure Kitaoka is listening than anything else. "So since we're on the same page, we'll leave it there for today." You flash him a smile, twirling around to hug Rintarou's arm. "Oh, and if someone named Elaine introduces herself to you, don't trust a word she says, got it? Alright, later, Kitaoka-kun!"

And not even giving him any time to answer, you teleport away. The wind rushes up to meet you, considering that you've transported the both of you hundreds of miles in the air. The only magic that you bother to summon is enough to keep oxygen flowing towards you, and Rintarou follows suit when he realizes that you want to fall, want the adrenaline rush to purge out your feelings.

Said adrenaline rush spikes as you crash into the ocean, your impact creating waves. You did your best to pick a place that wouldn't disturb ships or the environment much, but some things you can't avoid. The water rises up around you, and you let yourself submerge, the beautiful blue light under the water showing you the shimmering flickers of fish darting away from your widespread ripples that will go out and even crash into the ocean. You stay under for a while, too, letting the coolness chill the heat under your skin, and Rintarou stays by you all the way until you at last decide to swim up and break the surface.

"So," you say, "Kitaoka Hitoshi."

There's a beat of silence, and then—

"What the hell?!" Rintarou screams, pulling at his hair. "He's the worst! The actual worst!"

"See, see? I told you, I told you!"

"One stab… One stab is all it would have taken, and we could have been done, but nooo!"

"If it makes you feel better, you beat the shit out of him in Canon."

"Yeah, but I wanna beat the shit out of him now!"

"There, there…" You pat Rintarou's shoulder. You can't say you don't share the sentiment, but still. "He has a chance now. And if he doesn't learn his lesson and shows up at the King Arthur Succession Battle, we can beat the shit out of him together." Rintarou huffs, and you move your pats from shoulder to head. "You want some sushi before we go tear apart a Netherworld? Oh, yes you do!"

Rintarou must be pissed off if he doesn't even react to you teasing him like a puppy. "I'm getting fish and beef!"

In the end, you have no idea which ends up more decimated: the sushi restaurant's stockroom or the ruins left behind after your venting battle's destruction.

^^^^
lo0ol

It's the middle of the night whenever it hits you, the next round of memories. You've been filling in the pieces of the plotline as you go along, for what it will be worth with how much you've wrecked things already, but extra details still like to slip into your consciousness from time to time.

Like how Kujou was manipulated by Morgan le Fey because his fiancé was dying, and he wanted to help tear down the Curtain of Consciousness in order to save her. Your eyes shoot open in the dark, and you take shaking breaths, though they're too shallow to do you any good. Kujou is one thing, a mess of emotions you'll figure out later, but you now remember whose sake he was fighting for, you have a name—

Tachibana Kotone.

Of course, she didn't get much screentime, other than being used as a plot device for Kujou's development—which is, well, yeah, shitty—but she's still real. You have no doubt you could look up her name, you could find her in a hospital, walk in, and use your magic to figure out what was wrong with her, could make her healthy again.

This is not for Kujou's sake, oh no. Sure, you can understand being desperate enough to do anything for the people you want to save (because, fuck, have you been there), but, in the end, he doesn't matter in this. It's Kotone who matters, because it's her life and her health at jeopardy, and for what, so Taro Hitsuji could set up some fun dramatic tension and give Kujou some vague sort of redemption?

Yeah, you've been on the receiving end of that trope before, the sick girlfriend, the dying girlfriend, the dead girlfriend—

(Head severed at the neck, died in battle then reborn just to be distorted into a monster and disintegrate in the end, wasted away by illness as your daughter took on your burden, sealed away for wanting nothing but peace, locked away because you wanted to die, run through with a blade and tossed into the ocean—

Just once have you been a boyfriend in that situation. Just once, head bashed in with a rock by the person you loved and trusted, because fuck the universe and every other universe your soul has ever taken root in.)

(Head severed at the neck head severed at the neck head severed at the neck—)

"Rintarou," you choke out, your voice hoarse and grating, as if it's just happened, it's just happened, it's just happened. You try again, this time your words laced with magic: "Rintarou." Oh, god, you're crying, hot tears trying to purge out the sorrow and the pain and the trauma, but it's not enough, not when remembering the deaths brings along with it all the other hurt you've ever experienced, the continual torture of near death, the singing pain of your body pierced through and burning, bodies surrounding you without a care for how you feel, the loss of a leg cut out from underneath you—

It's Rintarou's voice that snaps you back to the present—not fully, but enough—the words carried over the magic connection now opened up between you: "I'm coming."

The walk between your rooms isn't that long at all, but it's too long for you to take right now with every perfect and crystal-clear memory banging around your skull all at once. You pull on the magic, popping yourself through space, and you land on Rintarou's bed with a fwump, the coldness of the top of the blankets in comparison to the nest you'd built for yourself keeping you tethered to reality for a faint moment. Rintarou has already sat up, but he doesn't even yelp whenever you arrive, no. Instead, he breathes out, petting his hand through your hair, and you let him, hell, you curl into the sensation like a kitten yearning for human touch, because you are yearning, you're desperate for anything at all to make you feel grounded, but even with that, you're still free floating in an empty space, and Rintarou is nothing more than a miniscule tether that's keeping you from slipping off and away into that abyss, how long can that even last, how long will he want to even put up with you?

"Ophelia," he says, your name, a reminder, and you burst into sobs. He doesn't know, not yet, not the way you died that first time, far too young for anyone's own good, a tragedy. "Ophelia," Rintarou says again, and you cling closer. "It's okay now. You're okay. You're safe."

You are safe, but it's hard to feel like it, whenever you're so disconnected from your body. You try to pull yourself up, hoping for more contact to tie you back into reality. Rintarou notices and drops himself back down to the mattress, letting you curl up to his side. His arm drapes across your shoulder, and you stare at him, trying to make sense of where you are.

"I'm…" Your voice is a rasp, so you try again. It doesn't do you much good. "I'm…alive?"

Rintarou adjusts—not letting go, but still putting some little semblance of space between you. "Give me your hands." You obey, and his fingers wrap around yours, the contact tight and warm. Then he moves your hands, one palm pressing against your chest, the other pressing over his. Your heartbeats, you realize, both of them thudding along in their own steady rhythms. "You feel that?" Rintarou asks, and you nod in answer. "That's proof, Safir. Proof that we're both alive. So you don't have to worry about a thing."

You come back to yourself enough to remember that Rintarou's gone through this, too, though his death was different than yours. But apologizing for yourself won't do any good, and you have nothing to apologize for in the first place. So instead you say, "Thank you," pressing your palm even closer to him, not letting a single scrap of disconnect in that space.

"Always," Rintarou says, and that little word sounds like a promise, a vow of his own. "Do you want to sleep here?" Sleep seems like some sort of far-off dream in itself, but you know that he's more offering company than anything else, so you nod. "Then stop being a dumbass and get under the blanket, Safir."

Safir. The name settles with you, a simple reminder of where and who you are now. It feels…nice to be recognized, to be a part of someone's life. Still, you give Rintarou a noogie for his troubles before following instructions. It's much cozier under the blanket than on top of it, and you are going to steal all his body heat before this is over.

"Ophelia," you say, and Rintarou makes a quizzical little sound before you continue, "Alma, Aria, Dowon, Rika, Monica, Noah." They're names, and they're yours, every single one of them someone that didn't deserve to die for someone else's sake, and yet they did anyways. Rintarou stills a moment before he tugs you a little closer, his hand carding through your hair again. Saying them feels like a relief, one less lifetime that you have to carry all on your own.

"Tell me about them," Rintarou says. "I'll listen."

And so you do.

^^^^
lo0ol

"Kujou-sensei."

It's the next day after classes have completed. Kujou hasn't done anything stupid since your first encounter, so you've left him alone, letting him be nothing but the background noise of a homeroom teacher you don't care about. So it's no surprise at all that the color drains out of his face the second you approach, and the fact that you're not even bothering to be chipper can't be helping his mood.

Talking and resting with Rintarou was a good time, and you are feeling better—but not enough to bother with performing anything extensive. If you'd had an idol show today, you would have cancelled it, because you just do not have any spoons for that shit.

But this. This doesn't require your emotional wherewithal, so it's time to take care of it.

You considered just going ahead and doing it, taking care of Tachibana Kotone and leaving it at that. She deserves recovery, anyways, and all life is precious. But also curing her without credit does not give your king an extra advantage in the Succession Battle, so your course of action is pretty clear.

Even when drained beyond recognition, you're still a good vassal. Luna lucked out when she got both you and Rintarou.

Kujou lucked out, too, with having you around. Not that he knows or recognizes that, what with your previous interaction, but he'll figure it out soon. You can see the moment of indecision in his face, where he debates if it would be worth it to act like he has other responsibilities that overpower helping out a student—and then he makes the right choice.

Spoiler: you would have made things very, very messy if he tried to run away.

"Safir-san," he says, a cold sweat starting to sheen over his brow. "I take it that this is about our…previous conversation." Smart man, putting the pieces together. You nod. "Alright, give me a minute, then. I'll meet you in the teacher's room." Or, in your case, on the way to the teacher's room, but that's very much understood. Not feeling up to giving a chipper response, you dip into a bow and make your retreat.

You'd already mentioned to Luna that you'd be away from student council duties today, but she's still peering at you, trying to figure things out—ah, no, you bet that she's noticed that you're feeling off today, knowing her. Rintarou distracts her, though, and you manage to escape without any further collateral. Navigating to the stairwell is easy, and you put up just enough magic to keep others away from the area without setting up any traps. You want to help Kujou, not hurt him. Not now.

You let your eyes close, let the silence sweep into you. You know well enough that you can't change the past, that living in the present and making a better future is what matters. But the scars of the past still linger, and healing Tachibana Kotone won't fix anything that happened to you, but—

But fuck if you aren't going to try.

The sound of the door opening clicks you back to reality, and you open your eyes, surveying Kujou from your position of leaning against the opposite wall. He understands that the door is going to shut, whether he likes it or not, so he lets it go. You do a sweep over your spell to make sure it works—except of course it works, it's you, your magic always works.

It occurs to you in a flash of insight:

You're stalling.

You wish you had a mirror, so you could observe yourself. What would you notice, what would you be able to tell about yourself? Would you be able to dissect just what is unfurling inside you, which memories would you know are ready to come and tear you apart from the inside?

"Ah, Safir-san…?"

Right. Kujou. You clench your fists enough to have your nails bite into your palms, connecting you back to here. You have work to do as Safir, and you need to be here. "Tachibana Kotone," you say, and Kujou flinches. Ah, he must think that this is a threat. You should have considered that before you started this conversation. Well, too late now. "I can heal her. Where is she?"

There is nothing but silence. Stillness. Some days, you enjoy the way you can shock people into speechlessness. Today, you wish that other people would learn to get over it and move on. You have things you want to do—by which you mean you want to be doing nothing but curling up in a blanket on the couch of Logres Manor, surrounded by your king and court. But you're here, and you're doing Kujou a favor, so the least he can do is make this as painless as possible.

Patience has no hold on you, and you add, "I'm waiting, Gloria."

The use of his Arthurian house name snaps him back to awareness. Good; if that didn't do the trick, you would have been tempted to just send a shock of your magic through him.

(You're so fucking tired.)

"Right. Kotone, she's…" You give Kujou an unimpressed look, which promptly cuts off his dawdling. "At [Name] Hospital. In the long-term ward. Room 457."

[Name] Hospital. You recognize it from your general sweep of the city; it's the highest quality facility in Avalonia. At least Kujou's put her in the best possible place he could. Ugh, are you feeling sympathy for him? That sounds like a dangerous position to end up in.

You push that feeling aside by focusing on your teleportation. You could've left Kujou behind, but it'll be much more convincing if he's present, if he can see that you're not doing this to hold her hostage. Just the thought of turning someone like you into a bargaining chip with her life on the line—effective strategy or no, you don't want anything to do with it.

So you both touch down on the tile floor of the hospital room, finding Tachibana Kotone asleep in her bed. The pallor of illness has had no impact on her beauty, and you observe her features: [check the light novel for a description to add in here]. The room has more than enough signs to tell that she's been here for a while: stacks of books, changes of clothes folded in the corner, the chair in a spot that suggests she receives daily or at least regular visitors, monitors still visible but tucked into the background.

But not anymore, not if you have anything to say about it. Which, well, of course you fucking do.

You step forward, plucking the medical chart off the end of Tachibana Kotone's bed. You could run your diagnostic magic to figure it out—in fact, you already are—but it's better to be sure. If you're going to do this right, you need as much information as possible. Kujou stands to the side, and when he speaks, his voice is trembling:

"Can you…can you really?"

"Of course I can," you say, not even bothering to waste a second on looking at him. There's a moment of hesitation, and then Kujou drops into the chair at Tachibana Kotone's bedside, taking his fiancée's hand in his.

"If you can, then, Safir, please."

Fuck. He loves her, pure and burning right down to the heart. You're not even looking, and you can taste the bond between them, the same flavor as so many bonds you once had.

(A scream in the wailing of the crowd; the laughter and joy of your closest friend; hands holding yours as you rested; the promise to protect your people side by side; a gentle smile as the sunlight glinted off the knife in your hands; the promise to bear your burden, your mask together—)

Your magic flares to life, and it washes over Tachibana Kotone, delving into and confirming the symptoms that her medical chart informed you of: exhaustion, deterioration, autoimmune compromises—it all spirals on and on, leaving it to be a wonder that she's still around, even while taking the high spec hospital into consideration. There doesn't seem to be any pain, but she's on the downward spiral of all downward spirals, and there's not going to be much left of her. Jesus, how did she even make it to Canon? Will she make it to Canon in this timeline?

You kick the thought aside and focus back on your diagnostic spell. Yes, the hospital report was accurate, but there's something more that there isn't any way they could have discovered:

Soul sickness.

Tachibana Kotone is another old soul, just like you, and you almost scream right then and there. Whatever her previous life was like, it's twisted her soul into a shape that's too draining for her current body, which doesn't have enough of a mana network to support it. While it's invasive, you do a quick scan of her memories, but don't find anything. Whoever she is, whoever she was, she doesn't remember at all, but god, how long has she been struggling with this mismatch?

(A moment, a flicker of hope, because even if she doesn't remember, maybe she could be someone you know, maybe you're notaloneanymore—)

That thought disintegrates the longer you observe her. She's an older soul, yes, but she still feels like this place, similar to Rintarou. Not as powerful, no, but her energy is that of the Legendary Era. Whoever she may be, she's a native to this world, which means you will continue on as you always have.

But for her, at least, you can make sure she gets to enjoy her second life as much as possible. And so you begin.

There's a lot you can take care of. It involves a lot of mana on your part, but you can help with giving her back her strength, with bolstering her immune system into a much more functional state. For the first time since you were born here, you pulse out so much of your magic that you're starting to sweat. You think you hear Kujou say something, but you're not sure, instead muttering an incantation under your breath. With your mana furnace active, your power swells again, at least helping you break even, but all you're doing is just feeding into a pit.

The imbalance on her soul is sucking up your power—but you can tell the pit isn't as bottomless as you assumed. No, it's just trying to make up for the mana it's needed in the past, like desert earth sucking up water. With enough time, it'll fill to bursting, and Tachibana Kotone should be in better shape than before. It's not a permanent solution by any means, no, but it'll at least be something.

The problem is that you can't just dump all your mana on her—that would burn her current body out. No, you have to monitor the amount, giving her enough that her body can handle while trying to satiate her soul. You're so in the work that you don't even know how much time has passed, but it feels like hours, days, even. No, if it were the latter, Rintarou would have come and found you, but you've still been here for a while.

And then, after an eternity, you can feel it: that it's enough, that you've given her enough mana to satiate the backlog in her soul. Your own body is burning, all the way down to your mana circuits, but it's still not enough. You took care of the backlog, but her soul still requires a heavy load that her body can't produce in this world, which means it'll catch up with her. And while you could come back and feed back into her, that would mean a life of regular treatments—not the worst, but also—

You want Tachibana Kotone to be free.

In theory, you could modify her soul, could lock away that power sponge. You have the ability for it. But out of everything, you know the soul is precious, and all the more so if it contains her past life in it. You can't alter it like that, can't risk ruining those pieces of her. But maybe, if someone was willing to share power with her, if they could feed her mana so she doesn't get like that again.

You could do it. You have more than enough power to walk out of it unscathed. But tying your soul to someone else's is an intimate thing, and you don't want to force that on her, either. The more you look at it, though, the more you can tell a massive amount of power isn't necessary; she was just like this because there had been so much backlog. Just a sliver of mana everyday would be enough; almost anyone could do it.

"Safir-san?" Kujou asks, his voice reaching you. You must look awful, but he doesn't comment on it at all. Instead, there's a look of strained hope on his face, as if he's trying to hold the emotion down so he doesn't end up disappointed. "Is she… Did you…?"

"She's in much better shape," you say, and Kujou lets out a small sigh of relief. You don't even have the energy to make a scathing mental comment for not catching onto the vagueness of your words. "She…she needs way more mana than she can produce. I filled her back up to full, but—"

"But it's only a temporary measure." Kujou's voice is quiet, but you can tell he understands the issue. "How long will this last?"

You take a moment, run some calculations based on the mana drain. "It'd be about five years until it depletes enough to cause issues. Ten years from this point that it would take for her to be drained if she didn't get topped off again." Kujou grimaces, clutching onto her hand tighter, but still gentle enough not to hurt her. How many of his Canon actions were because of Morgan le Fey manipulating these emotions? The thought just makes you all the angrier at her. "But if someone shared their mana reserves with her, she'd be oka—"

"I'll do it."

No hesitation whatsoever. You have to admire him for that at least. You don't doubt his conviction in the slightest. But this isn't a desperate situation anymore, so you can make sure he knows what's at stake.

"Just so you know," you say, not giving Kujou any room to interrupt, "this will end up cutting into your own power." For someone like you, siphoning off mana wouldn't be an issue, but for anyone with less reserves, that amount would be much more noticeable. "It wouldn't drain you dry, but it would be noticeable. You'd be at a disadvantage in the King Arthur Succession Battle."

"I don't care." Ah, what dedication. You can't say no to that. Kujou looks to Kotone, brushes her hair out of her face. "No matter the will of the Gloria family, I wanted to win so I could have the power to save her. If I can do that now, whatever happens in the Battle doesn't matter." He looks back to you, his expression determined, unrelenting. "I'll do anything for her, Safir-san. So please, I—"

You hold up a hand, and Kujou falls silent. He doesn't need to beg. You'll do this already, and you don't need to hear anymore. "I'll be glad to forge the connection for you, but—" Kujou looks ready to protest, but he doesn't say anything, knowing better than to interrupt you. "—she'll be okay for quite a while. Why don't the two of you talk things over first? You'll want to make this decision together, after all." Kujou nods, accepting your conditions. You're almost tapped out, but you pulse another small spell, giving Kotone just enough energy for her eyes to flutter open.

"Sou…ma…?" she asks, noticing him, and you start to slink away.

"Kotone," he says, all his attention snapping onto her, his voice full of affection. "Kotone, how are you feeling?"

And before you slip away, you hear Tachibana Kotone say, "I feel fine."

^^^^
lo0ol

You're so drained that you can't even teleport anymore. Instead, you call a taxi, sending a text to Rintarou to rendezvous with you at a nearby park. On the drive over, your body is ridiculous enough that you can already walk around, though your magic still feels strained. You should be okay by tomorrow morning, or at least by the next day. You should have tapped into your mana furnace sooner, but that's a note for future you. At least you're not stumbling as you approach Rintarou, who's waiting for you on a bench.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Rintarou looks up at you, assessing, trying to figure out what kind of state you're in. You…you don't know. You're not angry, and you're not upset, not quite yet, but your aura is still distorted, plus you're so tired. Rintarou pats the spot beside him on the park bench, but you shake your head. You don't want to sit still; you don't want to stay in one place where all the thoughts and feelings can catch up.

"I just helped Kujou's fiancée recover from her terminal illness," you say. You told him the stories, so he knows what this means for you. "I…I'm powerful enough to do that. I can save people. No one has to die the same way I did. I mean, people will die, but she doesn't have to be a footnote to anyone anymore."

You don't regret the roles you were in before, don't regret who you were to others. You loved your partners, loved all of them so much, but you do hate the role you had to play. Turning your life and tragedy into a piece of someone else's story.

Tachibana Kotone will not be that. Not anymore.

"Kujou was already terrified of me," you continue. "Now he's indebted to us. So that'll help Luna out when the time comes. That hack gets Lancelot, so that'll—"

"Hey." Rintarou stands up, puts his hands on your shoulders. His aura comes in a comforting pulse, and you can tell what he wants to say without him having to say it: You don't have to act like you did this for Luna. Doing it for yourself is fine. But hearing that out loud will snap you in half; knowing that he thinks the sentiment is enough. "Do you wanna go get a smoothie? I'll pay." As if it's not your money in the first place.

Still, you nod, not even bothering to hide your sniffle. "I want peach-mango."

"Anything you want, Safir. Just ask."

Those are dangerous words to offer, and, if you were in any other circumstances, you might be inclined to take advantage of them. But for now, a smoothie and some company—that's more than enough.

You offer a smile. "Alright. Why don't we invite Luna and Emma, too?"

Because when you have everyone together, all the rounds before just happen to feel worth it.

[Author's Notes]

Dead girlfriend is a trope that I have a lot of upset feelings about, so we're just gonna kick that on outta this story. Sure gonna set off some ripples with later plot points, though. Damn is the King Arthur Succession Battle proper gonna be a mess.

Thanks to Mercurius Darkness (whose notifs were buried in the wrong folder, whoops) and ransui for the faves and follow! Take this fic uploading anniversary upload.

Also, I'm kicking everything about canon Hitoshi off a cliff. Just...nope. There are some games I just don't play.

I haven't made decisions yet, but I'm pretty sure the next chapter will finally have to do with Reika, 'cause, yeah. Lots to help out with there. Undetermined upload time because my writing schedule is in shambles thanks to Moriarty the Patriot, rip.

In any event, please look forward to it!

-Avi

[04.18.2022]