As he prepared today's food in the cafeteria kitchen, Emiya couldn't help but shift his attention to his sole co-worker in Chadea's culinary endeavor: Genichiro Harada. They'd gotten acquainted well rather quickly, especially if he were to compare it to any brief acquaintanceships he had in his life as a 'Hero of Justice' or in his forays into whatever the Counter Force wanted him to do at any given time, of which a good amount ended in him killing the other party. He wondered why. Was it because of their shared hobby in cooking? the fact that they are fellow countrymen? or maybe the simple fact that this time around he was not in some war-torn battlefield where the currency was life instead of salt?

After almost a minute of quiet musing, Emiya thought he had finally cracked it: their relationship was inconsequential, casual. He was not his master, a servant, or an enemy. He was just a fellow cook. It was low stakes; not much to lose, not much to gain. It was the opposite of suffocating, instead pleasant like seeing a greengrocer that frequents the area around your home and exchanging pleasantries with them, even if neither of you knew each other's names.

"Wow, Mr. Emiya, your kitchen smells fantastic!"

The same could not be said for the blonde, green-eyed, young girl in front of the counter.

"Right… Saber."

"Saber? You should call me by my true name, Mr. Emiya. There's a lot of Sabers after all. Just call me Artoria, or Lily, if you'd prefer."

"Yes, Lily," Emiya finally said after a brief period of silence, masking the tumultuous state of his mind behind his best polite face. Fate hated him, Emiya decided. Oh, he knew, he'd always known, but for it to even follow him here? Outrageous, ridiculous, despicable if fate itself had a face to hate.

The Saber, Lily, Artoria Pendragon Lily, whose head was peeking left and right through him and into the inner workings of the kitchen, was one of Chaldea's newest arrivals from the summoning done by the Masters the day after resolving the France Singularity, and someone Emiya was both too familiar yet also complete strangers with.

"Can I know what's on the menu today? I've heard really good things from the other servants!"

For a brief moment, Emiya closed his eyes, and asked what he had done to deserve this so quickly after he himself had just been summoned, of which he realized the answer could be many and each valid, but none satisfactory. "It's slow braised beef and mashed potatoes. We'll be ready in ten or so minutes."

"Got it! I'll be waiting, uh, over there I guess? I'll be back, Mr. Emiya."

'I'm not him, and she's not her. I am not him, and she is not her. I am not him, and she is not her,' so the mantra repeated over and over in his head, as if doing so could brute force the memories out of him.

The first time he had seen Lily was the moment she was summoned in Chaldea. He didn't plan on observing the summoning that day, rather it was mere coincidence that he had happened to pass by the room when both of his Masters were in the process of doing so. He had then, purely on a whim, decided to enter and watch who their newest addition was going to be. He remembered there were others in the room then, mostly people you'd expect to be there, namely the operators and Mash, but there were also a few servants, for the same reason as his, he would imagine. Jeanne was one of them, he recalled, saying that she had a feeling that this particular summoning might be an occasion.

He wished that her intuition had been wrong.

When the light died down and Lily introduced herself, everyone reacted with a modicum of surprise, and he would guess it was because of the Artoria they had faced in Fuyuki. Going from that intimidating figure to the almost blindingly pure girl that merrily introduced herself as Artoria Pendragon Lily had to have been a trip for Ritsuka, who took at least thirty seconds to respond much to poor Lily's confusion and nervousness. Though it was smooth sailing after that, as Lily continued to introduce herself to King, Mash, and the servants present there.

As for Emiya? Well he couldn't say he remembered much of himself during that time. Maybe he just stared at Lily's figure as she went out the door and presumably had a tour around Chaldea. All he remembered was that by the time he regained his bearings, he was back in the kitchen, washing plates.

Lily was, seemingly, an Artoria Pendragon younger than what most would see her prime to be, summoned before she had even pulled Excalibur out of the rock it was buried in. He had gotten familiar with these different versions of a servant that the Throne of Heroes would at times house. The prime of a different aspect of a servant, if you will.

He couldn't quite pin down why Lily was eliciting such a reaction from him. When he had to pierce the Dark Artoria in Fuyuki or when he had to come face to face with the Fifth Holy Grail once more, he had not felt much, but perhaps that was exactly why: he could not kill his emotions now like he did then; interacting with her was unavoidable. But he could feel that it was more than that. It was something about Lily herself. Her appearance was identical to the King of Knights that he had known, but at the same time she looked so much smaller. Was it because of her clothes? Pure white armor that might not even yet know the taste of blood? Perhaps, but it was more the way she carried herself: it lacked any of the edge he had come to expect of any incarnation of Artoria Pendragon, and yet so much in her eyes still reminded him of her.

She was iron untempered, to be forged into the cold steel that the King he knew was, and that bothered him more than he ever thought anything could at this point in his existence.

"Phew! Well, Emiya-san, that's breakfast done," said Harada, wiping sweat off his brow while looking at the chafing dishes filled with braised beef and mashed potatoes.

Despite his multiple lifetime's worth of experience in cooking, both for himself and others, this was Emiya's first time working in a cafeteria setting, and he would be lying if it did not sour him somewhat to make the same kinds of food day in and day out. Protein, carbs, and maybe a simple dessert on Sundays, that had been the routine composition of foods that had been decided upon by he and Harada with the approval of the director. It made sense, supply was limited, and so were the hands in the kitchen, but he had to admit that a part of him missed making different foods for different people.

"You know, I never could've guessed that you were also from Japan. I mean, how many of us have white hair?" Harada said, the tone of his voice half joking.

"I know none myself," Emiya said, his voice level, "none full-blooded anyway."

"Ah, so you're not fully Japanese. Got it." Harada nodded to himself. That was, of course, untrue (to Emiya's lacking knowledge of his own lineage anyway), but Emiya did not bother to correct his co-worker. He did not need to divulge his identity, nor did he want to. Plausible deniability was a great ally to have. "Though I have to say, I don't think I've ever heard of any Japanese figure named Emiya."

"Then maybe you have to brush up on your history."

"Yeah, maybe I do," Harada said, before going over to the counter and ringing a bell. "Breakfast ready!"

The first dozen or so people that came up the counter were the staff of Chaldea, who exchanged with him brief greetings and good mornings; an improvement, he thought, from the almost rigid way they addressed him and the other servants in the first few days. He supposed the human mind truly could adapt to anything with the simple passage of time. It wouldn't be until the food in the chafing dishes had noticeably dipped down would he encounter a servant.

It was Achilles, his face anything but jolly.

"Yo, Emiya."

"Achilles."

The Rider slowly ladled his portions in silence just like every other who had come for food, but even an ordinary person could tell that his mood was down in the dumps, and that his entire posture seemed to beg for help. Sighing, Emiya decided against his better judgment to ask, if only so that he would go about taking his food faster:

"So, what is it?"

"What is it?" Achilles responded sharply with incredulity in his voice, as if he was asked whether water is wet or not. "What do you mean, 'What is it'? It's Atalanta! She's not here!"

"And?"

"I mean, what kind of bullshit is this?! Damn near everyone from that singularity got summoned here, even the literal final boss of the damned thing is here! But you're telling me that we have no place for Atalanta?!"

"It's not 'we' that doesn't have a place. Blame fate instead." Emiya sighed. "Besides, I think having someone you have history with not being summoned here is a blessing."

"Oh, piss off. What would you know about that?"

A lot, Achilles. A lot. And the proof was right behind you, in fact.

The Rider sighed. "Well, whatever. Thanks for the food. Later," he said dejectedly as he walked away almost limp to his seat, giving way for the next person to take their food:

A Caster, and unfortunately, one he was familiar with.

"Archer."

"Medea."

"Oh, right. We have to call each other with our true names here in Chaldea, don't we? What was yours again? E-mi-ya?"

Emiya's left eye twitched slightly at the three syllables of his own name. She said it with a mocking sultry tone, taunting him almost. Certainly, he knew why she had done so even as the hood of her robe obscured half of her face. The name Emiya had most definitely rang a bell in her head and, cursing the concept of aging itself, he had to admit that his face still bore similarities to his younger self's. It did not take a genius to connect the two dots, but Medea was one, and it probably made it easier for her.

"Yes. Yes that is my name," he said, keeping as much emotion off his voice as possible.

"Ah, well, nice to meet you, then, Emiya," Medea said, her voice still carrying that mocking (and also perhaps teasing) tone. Witch, indeed.

They did not exchange any more words afterwards, fortunately.

Emiya had not put much effort into worrying about the matter of his identity, and the fact that some would inevitably figure the implications of his true name. Servants that even knew of who he was could perhaps be counted on his fingers, and of them, he doubted that any would refer to him as anything other than Emiya or his class. And if even if they would, he doubted his name—his full name—would mean anything to anyone here.

But it didn't change the fact that he found it annoying.

Unfortunately for him, the encounters with familiar faces did not stop with Medea as Cu Chulainn, Sasaki Kojiro, and Medusa were up next. None of them said anything out of the ordinary, but when his eyes met with theirs, he could feel with near certainty that his name had incited a knowing glint of sorts in them. He had thought the anomaly that allowed servants to retain memories of their previous summonings in Chaldea's FATE system was a blessing in many ways—and cursed himself for lacking the hindsight that it would also be a curse to many when it came to personal matters.

The rest of the line was a blur, if only because his attention was forced on her. She was the last person in the line, body fidgeting side-to-side as she gripped a tray against her body. It was uncharacteristic of her to be so far back in the matter of food, Emiya thought. The Saber that he knew–

'–isn't here.'

Yes, right. The Artoria Pendragon—Saber—that he knew was not here, and maybe, just maybe, she would never be here. There was no point in mulling about it. Lily was just a Saber like every other; like d'Eon, like Siegfried, like Gilles.

Just another servant asking for food.

"Mr. Emiya?"

"Right. Sorry," he said, Lily's voice breaking him out of his musings. "Just take however much you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You're the last one to get the food after all."

Despite the permission, Lily still looked unsure, her eyes darting between her still empty plate and the still plentiful food in store. Right there and then, before he could stop himself, Emiya thought to himself that she looked cute, in a way unique from the Saber he knew.

'I should really stop doing that.'

"Mr. Emiya?"

"Hm? What is it?"

"It's nothing serious, but I could've sworn I heard you say that there would be potatoes," Lily said, uncertain. Her neck craned over the counter and her eyes peered into what was left of the mashed potatoes, gleaming as they scanned the food over, as if it was such a strange sight to the future king.

"I did, and you're looking right at it."

"Really?" She shook her head, and gave a sheepish look. "Sorry. I… never even saw a potato in my village, and the Grail told me that it was a root vegetable, so–"

"Just try it," Emiya said, cutting her off. He gave her a small smile. "I'm sure you'll like it."

"O-Okay! I'll take your word for it," she said, hurriedly scooping a generous portion onto her tray, before scurrying to a seat nearby.

She never saw potatoes, hm? He remembered, even through fractured memories, that Saber once said that she had bad memories with potatoes though she did not divulge further. He also remembered that she changed her mind, after his potato dish, that was. Perhaps Artoria had this 'bad experience' of hers after she became king, then. Well, maybe he should give himself a pat on the back for turning pre-potato Artoria's future opinion on the food then. A small bad future avoided.

"Guess that's it for breakfast, huh?" Harada said, taking off his apron with a 'phew' and hanging it on a rack.

"Until lunch and dinner," Emiya corrected.

"Hey, that's still, like, four hours away at least. I think we can rest until–"

A soft clutter cut their conversation short, and prompted both of them to look to the counter; it was Lily, her tray empty.

She looked rather sheepish as she said, "Um, I-I'm done eating. Thank you for the food, Mr. Emiya and…"

"Harada. Genichiro Harada."

"Mr. Harada."

Last to eat yet first to finish. Now that was more of what he expected from someone bearing the name Artoria Pendragon.

"Did you like it?" Emiya asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Yes! Very much so!" the Saber enthusiastically replied. "It surpassed all my expectations, really. I never expected a root vegetable could be turned into something that delicious."

Emiya couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum at the face Lily made: an excited, innocent smile that fit her stature. He wondered if giving her the answer as to why would break the illusion she had seemed to conjured up for herself. That was to say, for the food to taste as good as they were, you had to use a lot, a LOT, of butter.

As seconds passed, Lily stayed still in front of the counter; not frozen, per se, but her feet hadn't moved from where she was despite the passing silence. And eventually, Emiya could not help but notice her eyes stealing a few glances at the remains of beef and potatoes in the chafing dishes.

"Lily."

"Y-yes?"

"Do you want seconds?"

A pink hue suddenly overtook Lily's pale face, and she averted her eyes.

Emiya had to suppress the urge to laugh. "Knock yourself out."

Then, before he could say anything else, Lily spooned in about a quarter of what was left in the dishes in a speed that would make even Achilles green in envy, and dashed to her table while sputtering, "ThankyousomuchI'llbegoingnow!"

Well, some things never change.

As Emiya went to hang his own apron, he felt the gaze of Harada following him along, an amused smile on his face.

"What?"

"You're softer around her," Harada accused, though the way he said it, it came like a statement of fact.

"It's just your imagination."

He laughed. "Your sous chef, Genichiro Harada, knows well between reality and his imaginations, Head Chef."

Emiya sighed. He supposed there was no point in lying about something he had no way of hiding. Though at the same time, there was no need to satiate his sous chef's curiosity, so he instead decided to 'plead the fifth', as Americans would say it, by staying quiet and letting Harada's curiosity vanish by itself.

Anyway, his culinary duties for breakfast were over, which meant that it was time to do another piece of business.

"Harada-san."

"Yes?"

"I already told you before, but sorry about leaving the work for lunchtime all to you."

"Don't worry about it. We got enough leftovers and prep work done for me to take care of it myself. You go do whatever it is you need to do," he said nonchalantly, already retreating deeper into the kitchen while facing his palm to Emiya, signaling that he got it under control.

"Appreciate it," Emiya said, already heading out of the kitchen and into the halls of Chaldea. He needed a distraction, and it just so happened that he had an appointment with a certain boy today. The sooner he could get his mind off her, the better.

And he could think of few better ways to do so than training his own Master.

"Gandr!"

As Ritsuka cast the spell, magical energy gathered at the tip of his index finger then shot out from it in the span of less than a second, traveling faster than a normal human could react and enveloped its target, a motionless dummy provided by the simulator, in a small but considerable blast. Behind the boy, Emiya stood, arms crossed.

"How's that?"

"Again."

Ritsuka grumbled at Emiya's almost dismissive tone, waiting for the Mystic Code to recharge, fifteen seconds to be exact, before firing another Gandr.

Ritsuka's training was going well, Emiya thought. The first time they did this, straight after Fuyuki, he had admittedly not taken it seriously. He still saw Ritsuka as an unnecessary sacrifice at the time, and he still did to a degree, though now he saw Ritsuka's role in The Grand Order as unavoidable. Now, taking the training more seriously, he had drilled into the boy the basics—that was to say, how to not get killed.

And for that, he decided to start on the spell best for that purpose.

Another Gandr hit the dummy, this time the blast was larger, almost knocking the sturdy, made-for-endurance, dummy down. He had to admit, he was rather impressed at Chaldea's Mystic Codes. Gandr in essence was simply a spell to lower the physical health of its target, and he only knew a few that could turn it into what basically amounted to magic bullets (one reared in his mind, but he suppressed it quickly). For it to give someone as untrained and ungifted as Ritsuka similar, if lesser in power, effects, it was a great boon.

"You know, I feel like we've been focusing a lot on Gandr when it comes to spells," Ritsuka said, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, of course we have," Emiya said bluntly. "Of the Mystic Codes that Chaldea provides, most are the supportive kind—to enhance your servants in battle, so to speak. You'll get better at those with experience. But something like Gandr is much more valuable. It can guard you, someone far more important than every single one of us servants combined."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"If it makes you feel any better, that's all for your magecraft training today," Emiya said as he abruptly walked away from the dummies, prompting Ritsuka to follow.

The simulator was the same as always, green plains and comfortable sunny weather. Perfect for fighting, training, and whatever else the servants wanted to do in their spare time. He'd heard a few stray complaints on the way by the operators of the simulator. Some servants, especially battle-hungry ones, had often barged in unannounced and asked for almost unreasonably long times in the simulator. 'They better pay me for all these goddamned extra hours once we're done' he'd heard on the way here.

"Say, Emiya, is there any way for me to increase my potential? Like, I don't know, get more magic circuits or draw out more magical energy or anything like that?" Ritsuka said beside him.

'There is' was the first, instinctive, answer that came to Emiya's mind. In fact, he doubted that there was anyone else more qualified to give an answer to that question in Chaldea. He could simply point to himself to answer Ritsuka's question.

But no. There was no need to give the boy any funny ideas.

"There is a way, but it's an astronomically idiotic move. You can get more magical energy out of yourself by siphoning your own lifeforce, or turning parts of your body into more circuits. Sounds dangerous? That's because it is." He gave Ritsuka a hard stare. "Don't do it"

"You don't gotta tell me twice," Ritsuka said, wincing at the mere thought of the suggestion. Good. The less funny ideas he had, the better.

"Alright, we're here," Emiya announced.

"Uh, where is 'here?" Ritsuka asked, taking a few steps forward in front of Emiya while squinting his eyes, trying to see what his servant had meant, before coming to an abrupt stop as he collided with an invisible barrier, almost knocking him down. Then, realization dawned him. "Wait, you mean–"

"I do. Warm those legs up, Ritsuka."

For a moment, the boy simply stared at him and while Emiya couldn't see his own face, it was clear that whatever it made had the boy annoyed. Still, he eventually sat down and began stretching his legs.

"So, we're going to have me run around this place, huh?"

"Mhm," came Emiya's response to the rhetorical question as he scoured the track that was made from circling the simulation. Da Vinci had told him that the simulation spans one kilometer from end-to-end in the shape of a circle, which meant that:

"It's about three kilometers per lap, Ritsuka."

"Gee, didn't know you were a math wiz."

"Hmph. If I was in charge of education, I'd have you working on some math problems for that."

"No, thanks," said Ritsuka dryly. "So, why?"

"Why what?"

"Why is running part of my training?" Ritsuka asked, and Emiya had to hold back the urge to sigh.

"Don't you think it's embarrassing being carried on Mash's shoulders every time you need to get somewhere fast?" Emiya asked half-snidely and half-earnestly.

"It kinda lost its luster after the fifth time or so."

Emiya sighed, losing to the urge. "That doesn't make it a good thing."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, unless you're dealing with someone like Achilles or Atalanta, a human in their best shape possible should be able to match a typical servant's speed outside of battle, maybe even in it if we're strictly speaking on reaction times. It's one thing for your mystic code to provide you stamina to keep up with the servants, matching their pace is another. So, that's the first thing I'll train you in, capiche?"

Ritsuka sighed. "Sir, yes, sir."

So, off the boy went, running though not at a full sprint circling the simulation. It was a rather long track, Emiya thought, and as he followed Ritsuka at a matched pace beside him, he thought it wouldn't take too long until his legs gave up.

Yet after almost twenty minutes passed, it was the start of the third lap and Ritsuka was, surprisingly, keeping up a decent pace.

"Your stamina is pretty decent. Ever did any sports?" Emiya called out to Ritsuka, who was huffing and puffing as his respiratory system seemed to have slowed down before his legs.

"Oh, well, I played volleyball in school. Even got a spot on the school team. Never went beyond top eight in regional tourneys, though."

"Volleyball, huh? What position?"

"Libero. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," he lied. Libero, a defender. Always leaping to protect the ball from falling even if they had to fall on top of their own bodies to do so. He had to say, it fit Ritsuka very well.

Almost too well.

Ten more minutes passed, and Ritsuka finally started to slow down. It would not be another ten minutes before he would come to a full stop, Emiya thought.

"So, hah, what's, hah, the deal with you and, hah, our new saber?" Ritsuka asked suddenly through labored breaths and beads of sweat flowing down his forehead.

"I have nothing against Siegfried."

"You know who I'm talking about."

Emiya sighed. "Let's just say that memories can be a bitch sometimes."

"Oh, so she's, hah, like a former enemy of yours, hah, in a grail war or something?"

"In a way." And he left it at that. The knowledge of his true name was already something he didn't think he would give Ritsuka; his master didn't need to know any more about his life.

"Oh, alright. It, hah, just got me kinda worried, hah, you know? Your face went all sorts of places when we summoned her."

His face? "Was I that obvious?"

"Hah, not really. It was just, hah, a big deviation from your face normally is."

Huh. Ritsuka was more observant than he thought.

"If you think it's going to affect my performance should we fight together, don't waste your time thinking about it. It won't."

"Hah, well, if you say so."

His Master took his word for it, but somehow, Emiya felt that he himself could not take it. In most cases, he supposed he could treat her just as any other Saber he would fight with. But when he tried to conjure the image, it seemed as if his brain would continuously think of scenarios where that would not be the case, where his emotions took over his rationale and he reached out to Lily as her face became far too similar to the green-eyed blonde he once–

"Ah!" Ritsuka cried out. "T…That's it. I can't… go on… anymore…" he said through pants, before unceremoniously dropping onto his ass, then progressively, on his back.

"Almost ten kilometers," Emiya said, letting his impressed tone be heard. The boy deserved that much. "Color me impressed."

"Yeah, hah, thanks for being impressed," came the sarcastic response.

Emiya gave a light chuckle, and handed out a water bottle to Ritsuka, which the boy accepted quickly, greedily opening the cap and quenching his thirst.

Then, from his peripheral, Emiya spotted familiar purple hair closing in on their location.

"Senpai!"

"Mash!"

Senpai. The word tickled his brain in a spot in a way that he forgot it could be tickled. He sighed. Between Lily and this, he could only hope black hair in twintails would not be on today's agenda.

"Ah, good morning to you too, Emiya-senpai!"

'Well, that sure helps things.'

"Me? Senpai?" Emiya asked, pointing to himself.

"Well, you're teaching Senpai as his senpai, right? So the senpai of my senpai is… my senpai," she stated, fist clenched confidently.

Emiya began to open his mouth, but as he thought about it, she was… right? What was he even trying to argue about? So instead, he nodded slowly and agreed, maybe. What he knew to be certain was that he'd heard the word senpai enough times today.

"Anyway, here Senpai, use this," Mash said, handing a hand towel to Ritsuka.

"Thanks, Mash," Ritsuka said as he took the towel and wiped his face with it. "Guess that's it for today, right Emiya?"

"Yeah. Good job. I say you did better than most boys your age."

"Ha. Thanks, really," Ritsuka said, a small abashed blush creeping up his cheeks. "So, you're coming with me, Emiya?"

"I'll… be here for a bit longer," Emiya said. "I want to check the simulator a bit longer." A lie. Truthfully he himself didn't know the exact reason why, but part of him wanted to be by himself for a little while longer. He could hazard a guess, but was it really her that made him feel this way?

Or was it just her memory?

"Alright. I'll be off now. The Director wants me to write a report on my personal experience on the First SIngularity." Ritsuka sighed as he walked away. "Slave driver," he muttered quietly, but not quite enough to not be heard. "See you for afternoon training, Emiya."

As he watched the boy's back getting smaller as he started to leave, a small wave of relief passed over Emiya. While he doubted that Ritsuka would ever get to the level of the typical Clock Tower Mage in his magecraft ability, the boy's adaptation to using the spells from his Mystic Codes was impressive. He supposed the constant battles in the singularity would do that. And physically, he was above average, on the path to becoming excellent for who he was. For once, with a decent modicum of certainty, Emiya believed that Ritsuka would make it out of The Grand Order in one piece.

Physically, at least.

"Ritsuka."

The boy turned back to him, hair still wet from sweat and legs slightly shaking, but standing straight nevertheless. "Yeah?"

"What do you suppose correcting history means?"

Ritsuka opened his mouth and closed it, and he assumed a thinking pose. Emiya's gaze at him remained unbroken as the seconds ticked away. Mash patiently waited as Ritsuka kept thinking, bottle and towel in her hands. And after half a minute, Ritsuka started with a hum, before answering:

"Saving the world, I guess?"

Emiya closed his eyes.

"I see."

"Is… that a bad answer?" Ritsuka asked, concern apparent on his face.

"No, nevermind." Emiya turned away from Ritsuka and started walking closer to the center of the simulation, to meditate or ruminate or contemplate or whatever it is called that he wanted to do. "Just curious."

"Uh, alright."

As they went their separate ways and Ritsuka exited the simulator, Emiya scanned the grassy plains for a spot to sit down, preferably one with a level ground. Eventually, he found such a spot and sat down.

'Saving the world, huh?'

The phrase brought to him memories once again, as unwelcome as they had been since Lily was summoned. He wondered if the answer was something Ritsuka thought of carefully, or a simple conclusion reached upon from the lack of a more personal vendetta in the ordeal he had found himself in. Did Ritsuka know what such an answer truly meant? What such a burden, even if undertaken by the shoulders of another by his side, would feel on his person? The voice that would tell him to keep going even when his body, his mind, and his soul had already been driven past their limit?

Or had Emiya just watched another young boy's ignorance doom himself?

'No,' Emiya thought, shaking his head, 'it's not like that this time.'

It couldn't be any more black or white. Someone—or something—had incinerated humanity. There were no stray civilians in the way, no children ignorant of their purpose as they marched down a battlefield, no esoteric endings to a meaningless war that spared no one.

There was simply an evil needed to be defeated; Ritsuka didn't need to worry about much else.

Truly they were saving the world with no strings attached.

Emiya sighed.

He supposed he was simply being sentimental.

"Oh, you're back, Emiya-san. Just in time to serve lunch."

Emiya nodded to Harada and hung his red overcoat, changing it with his apron. It was twelve o'clock on the dot, right on the designated lunchtime, he thought as he saw people come in the cafeteria in droves. Looking at the counter, it would seem that Harada had managed to cook lunch all by himself, as evident by the chafing dishes filled with cut pieces of simmered chicken, egg, and white rice. It became immediately clear to Emiya what the cook was going for.

"Oyakodon, is it?"

"Mhm," Harada nodded, "wanted to do something a bit closer to home, you know?"

Emiya couldn't help but let out a sardonic chuckle. And here he was trying to get as far away from feeling 'home' as possible. Well, not like Lily would let that happen, though, judging by her trying to catch a peek at the food from her table on the other end of the cafeteria in the corner of his eye.

"This isn't quite proper for an oyakodon though, is it?" Emiya said, gazing over the three dishes lit under the warming lights that were, to put it frankly, a deconstruction of an oyakodon.

"It's not," Harada admitted, looking sheepish. "The chicken is too wet, the eggs are too dry, and the rice will become harder under the light." He sighed. "Damn it, I wish we could just do this like a restaurant."

Though he wouldn't say it, Emiya had to agree. "It's not a matter of choice, Harada-san. Our ingredients are still limited, and even if that part was covered, we are still a two man crew," he pointed out.

"Well actually, I've been told that we will be getting more ingredients," Harada said.

"Really? Who told you that?"

"The Director. She came earlier and told me to pass it to you. Something about using the remnants of the France Singularity. Can't say that means much to someone like me—I'm just an engineer, but I'm guessing you know what she meant."

He did. He'd heard of it briefly. As it would turn out, the singularities did not fully disappear once resolved, and their remnants still persisted though they no longer pose any kind of threat. Obviously, the implication immediately dawned on him the first time he was informed of it: they could use these remnants as a source to gather materials and ingredients.

They just needed servants to do the duties.

"We'd still need more hands on deck before serving restaurant-style can even be considered," Emiya said as he rang the bell to signal that the food was ready.

Harada sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Can't we just hurry up and summon another servant that's good at cooking?"

His sous chef's complaints would remain unheard as seconds later the counter was swarmed by humans and servants alike. This time, he saw more familiar faces on the humans' side of things, The Director and Romani to name a few, though Ritsuka and Mash were missing, presumably to rest before eating. Who really caught his eye, however, was King, situated in the latter half of the line. They had not talked since the end of the First Singularity, yet what was left unspoken between them had been more than made up by their shared responsibility of Fujimaru Ritsuka.

Even so, Emiya found himself wanting to exchange words with his other Master still.

So, when the time came for King to take his food, Emiya took the chance.

"King."

"Emiya."

It was with a simple calling of their names by which their conversation started, and Emiya could only chuckle lightly as King simply continued to take his food in slowly. Clearly, the older master wanted him to initiate their conversation about the obvious shared topic between them.

"Ritsuka, he's a handful, but he's also our responsibility, isn't he?" he asked. It was of course a rhetorical question. King, the man who had talked to Ritsuka about the choices in front of him and pushed him to choose without bias, would surely know even better than him the responsibility he had undertaken by doing such a thing. Had Emiya caught wind of it before Ritsuka showed him that it was truly his own choice, perhaps the Archer would have requested a few words with King.

But now? He supposed he could only sigh in defeat at how he'd been beaten to the chase.

"I suppose you believed in him before I did. Though, looking back, maybe it should've been obvious to me," he admitted to the man who still stood quietly in front of him, his gaze itself already a response. "Maybe it should have occurred to me earlier that the boy could not possibly live with himself knowing that he is one of the only two men left that could help, and maybe it was counterproductive of me to prevent him wholly from making his own choice. But I don't suppose that was ever a problem to you, was it, King?"

King stayed silent still, his signature stoic gaze was the only reply he gave, but Emiya supposed that was an agreement enough.

"Guess we're in this together, aren't we?"

'Just let me put the food on my tray, man,' King thought. The tray in his hand stayed empty as Emiya yapped on about Ritsuka and responsibility and how they were in this together whatever that meant.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your lunch," Emiya said, but he could've fooled King with that drawn out and one sided talk they just had. "Go on."

King simply nodded, still staying quiet, because how was he supposed to respond to that?

Quickly spooning in the food in front of him, King made no attempt at even meeting Emiya's gaze afterwards and simply walked quickly to an empty table. He barely understood what the Archer was trying to say back then—or maybe he did. He just didn't want to think about it, about Ritsuka, about his responsibility.

His feelings about what he did to Ritsuka was the last thing he needed during lunch.

The rest of lunchtime went smoothly for Emiya, even smoother than breakfast dare he say. Medea was feeling a lot less chatty this time around to his relief, and he even was getting used to Lily's presence. His job, and by extension his existence here as a servant had become a routine; soon enough even Lily's face and the familiar names would be an everyday sight to him.

"So, that girl, Lily," Harada said from behind just as they finished cleaning up the kitchen.

"What about her?" Emiya asked. He didn't like where this was going.

"Oh, come on, Head Chef. Don't be coy with me," Harada said, his voice taking on a somewhat playful tone. "There's something between you two. It's clear as day!"

Emiya simply stared at his fellow cook and raised an eyebrow. "So you're my confidant now?" he asked with just a little bit of annoyance seeped into his voice.

He threw his hands up. "I'm not," he admitted, "but a sous chef is supposed to help the head chef, isn't he?"

Emiya sighed. "What a nosy sous chef I got assigned with."

"So why're we splitting my training regimen into morning and evening anyway?"

"So you can rest," Emiya stated the obvious to Ritsuka, who looked very unenthusiastic to say the least.

"I get that, but why not just condense it to a single session?" Ritsuka asked as they continued walking through Chaldea's darkening halls.

"Because, Ritsuka, you need to be at your best at each part of training," he chided. "No use in all the regimens I've divided for you if you aren't in your best condition for each of them."

"Well now you're making me scared. What's this second training about?"

"Strength training."

Before Ritsuka could pry further into what that meant, they arrived at their destination as one of the doors in Chaldea's halls opened with a low hum, revealing to Ritsuka where Emiya had taken him: the gym.

"Seriously?" Ritsuka asked, his voice falling into a whisper.

"Seriously," Emiya answered. Oh he wasn't enjoying this, rest assured. Not. At. All.

"Why?" Ritsuka asked again, voice now falling completely to defeat.

"It's not as important as what we did before; you're not going to be punching servants or beasts anytime soon," Emiya said. "But say that you ever meet a situation where you have no choice but to get physical, or you come up with another insane plan at the sake of your own body that you refuse to go back on. You'd need a better physique for all of them."

"Hey now, I'm not that bad with my plans. That whole thing Cu Chulainn was an outlier, I think," Ritsuka said, though the hesitation trailing off the statement defeated his own words.

He balled his hand and held it to Ritsuka. "Strength, core, and muscle size," Emiya said, emphasizing each aspect with his fingers. "If you want to survive, these are the three things you need to have."

"Alright, alright. I get it," the boy said while swatting his hands at his servant, as if it would deter the chiding. "So where do we start?"

Emiya pointed his thumb to the gym's equipment: barbells, dumbbells, machines, and plates of various colors. "You know your way around them?"

"Nah. Never touched a weight in my life."

"Thought so. Which is why I brought someone to help."

"Who–?"

"Lord Emiya!" The sudden voice of a third man startled Ritsuka almost to the point of stumbling over himself while Emiya remained still with his arms crossed. "I have come as per our agreement!"

"L-Leonidas?" Ritsuka said to the newcomer in the gym, a Lancer who was naked sans a speedo-like underwear covering his privates, a cape, and pieces of armor that only covered the barest of his limbs. As a result, the red markings all over his body almost seemed to glow on his bronze chiseled skin amid the dimness of nighttime Chaldea.

"Indeed, Master. It is I, Leonidas," the servant introduced himself, voice booming through his Spartan helmet from where his eyes were the only visible part of his face, bright white and glaring like two moons on a particularly dark night. "I come to help you with your training!"

"I-I see," Ritsuka said while gathering his bearings. The boy turned to Emiya with an expression that seemed to convey a silent 'what'.

"Well Master, regrettably, I am not an expert in this type of training myself," Emiya admitted. His own physique was more of a result of archery training and constant battles rather than any type of dedicated training, and he wasn't going to have Ritsuka obtain his physique through the same hardheaded way. "So, Leonidas here will take over for your strength training."

"Exactly, Master!" Leonidas said. "Worry not, the Grail has given me enough knowledge on the workings of these newfangled equipment. Here!" The Lancer's hand shot out to Ritsuka, holding in it a folded piece of paper.

"Oookay…" Ritsuka took the paper and unfolded it. Looking inside, there was a list of exercises, some with free weights, some with machines, and some with body weight, with the numbers of reps, sets, and even rest times clearly and approximately stated down to the second.

"This is…"

"This is the Spartan Way, Master! Rest assured, there is no more surefire way to grow muscle in your body!"

"No, no, it's just that I didn't expect the 'Spartan Way' to be so, uh, scientific?" Ritsuka said, and Emiya had to admit that he was thinking the same.

"Why, of course it is, Master. How else but with the progress of knowledge would we find a way to further our own bodies?"

"Fair point," Ritsuka agreed, echoing Emiya's sentiment.

"Now, let us begin!"

For the next half hour, Emiya simply leaned on the gym's wall and watched as Ritsuka began the training with a modicum of confidence as he went through the first few sets of the first exercise: the tried and true push-up. Of course, that all went away by the last set, which Leonidas seemed excited to push the boy to his limits.

"Come on! Two more!"

"I'm… trying…" the boy gasped, the movement of his horizontal body slowing down to a crawl as his chest struggled to bring themselves together, eventually coming to a close as the boy went to full lockout as he gasped for breath.

Emiya did his best to stifle a smile.

"Meet me in the kitchen after dinner."

"K-Kitchen? Why–"

"No stopping, Master! Just two more reps!"

"Argh! Didn't you say that for my last rep?"

The voices of his Master and the Lancer became echoes and eventually silence as Emiya walked back to the kitchen to serve the final meal of the day: dinner.

When he got to the kitchen, Harada greeted him just like usual, before they went to work. He washed the dishes, prepared ingredients, then cooked the side dish while his sous chef took care of the cafeteria tables, cutlery, and the main dish. Dinnertime itself went, dare he say, better than even lunchtime. Some of the annoying familiar faces didn't even come for dinner, presumably opting to spar, read, or whatever hobbies they might have had.

Dinnertime came and went like a gust of wind. Most of the work Emiya did came from muscle memory. Nevertheless, it was now time to wait for Ritsuka, who had not shown himself even thirty minutes after dinner was done. It wouldn't be until ninety minutes later would he see Ritsuka again, walking as if he was a puppet on strings into the kitchen with eyes half-lidded.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a truck," the boy groaned, "and then it reversed and crushed me again."

"Good."

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

"I'm being serious," Emiya said, though he had to admit that he was holding back an amused smile. "Fatigue means that you pushed yourself enough."

"Wow, that makes me feel so much better!"

"You will when your body becomes muscular."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Don't expect anything to show until a month or two, though."

Ritsuka clicked his tongue as they went deeper into the kitchen, where on one of the tables laid ingredients, many kinds of ingredients in fact, ranging from meats and vegetables, to things like flours and cartons of milk.

"So… what are we doing now?" Ritsuka asked, his head going side to side to grasp the full scale of what had been prepared for him, both the ingredients and the cookware.

"Cooking."

"Well now you're just pulling my leg."

"Oh, worry not, I am still being serious, Ritsuka," Emiya said. "Harada. It's time."

"Ah, finally," his sous chef said, emerging from another part of the kitchen. "Hello, Ritsuka. I'm Genichiro Harada, the sous chef of Chaldea's kitchen." Harada offered his hand to the boy.

"R-Right. I'm Fujimaru Ritsuka, one of Chaldea's two masters, I guess," Ritsuka said, accepting the handshake.

"Haha. You know, the first time I came here, I was pretty scared of working with mages," Harada said. "But here you are, Chaldea's one of only two masters. Just a high school boy." He sighed. "Man, that's kinda fucked up."

"It is," Ritsuka agreed immediately, to the surprise of both Harada and Emiya. "But if I can do something to help myself, then I should, right?"

Harada laughed. "Well, you got me there," he said. "Well, Fujimaru-kun, got any experience in cooking?"

"Er, cooking like grilling, roasting, and boiling? Not really, not that type of cooking anyway. Also, just call me Ritsuka. The Director calls me Fujimaru way too much."

"That's fine. That's the whole point of learning, ain't it?" Harada said rhetorically, throwing Ritsuka an apron while putting one on himself.

"So, we're really doing this?" Ritsuka asked, apparently still not quite believing that his last 'training' would be cooking.

"Yes," Emiya said as he sat down on a chair that overlooked the entire room.

"I'm probably sounding like a broken record by now, but why?"

"Survival," Emiya said. "Let's say that we ever get stranded, to the point where you are separated from everyone else and Chaldea can't contact you. Shelter is easy enough to find from scouring the area, but food? That you have to learn to cook."

"And hunt," Ritsuka added as he tied his apron.

"One thing at a time, Ritsuka."

"Alright, Ritsuka," Harada said, catching the boy's attention. "We'll be making a few simple dishes of several kinds: something simple with only protein, a dish that's only carbs, and something more complicated with a longer recipe, got that?"

"Got it," Ritsuka said. "What about, Emiya? Are you just gonna sit there and watch like last time?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"I'll be the judge of your cooking," Emiya said, his own smug tone superseding his attempts at looking neutral.

"I thought you said it's for survival? Why are you judging the taste?" Ritsuka asked.

"You want to eat bland meat with the texture of cardboard?"

"Point taken."

Ritsuka's last 'training' of the day then started as Ritsuka read the recipe for each dish while preparing and cooking. Beside him, Harada pointed out whatever mistakes the boy made on the way, while also helping with much of the more complicated steps of the recipes. Emiya had to admit that something about the sight, smell, and even sound of it all brought to him a calm that surprised him. Ritsuka's panicked voice as he messed up the time of the beef, his sous chef's laugh at said mistakes, and the imperfect smell of the cooking.

It was all really calm in a way he never quite expected it could be as a servant.

The sound of plates hitting the table shook Emiya out of his musings, and on the table where once had been ingredients, there were now three dishes.

"How'd he do?" Emiya asked Harada.

The cook shrugged. "I did my best to assist him."

Emiya stood up and looked at the table, before him were three dishes, a piece of steak, some roast potatoes, and a medium portion of curry.

"Uh, bon appétit?" Ritsuka offered weakly, his body hunched over as he used his arms to lean on the table, sweat covering his brow.

"Mhm," Emiya grunted, taking a seat in front of the dishes.

First, the steak. He stabbed a part of it with a fork and cut it with a knife, at which he immediately noticed something off when he made the first motion with it. Nevertheless, Emiya kept cutting, and eventually ate a piece of the steak.

"Too tough, and you used too much salt," he immediately said, to which Ritsuka winced. Emiya did not give Ritsuka any time to process the criticism as he went over to the next food on offer: roast potatoes.

Emiya picked up a single piece of potato—too soft, he immediately thought when the fork pierced through the dish, and when he tasted it, his brows furrowed.

"Bland, and not crispy enough," he said, and Ritsuka offered a small apology.

Finally, the curry. Emiya spooned himself a good amount of the dish with equal parts rice and curry. As the curry entered his mouth, his eyebrows immediately raised.

"Good. No notes," Emiya said, stunned though he hid it well.

"Hell yeah," Ritsuka cheered quietly, clenching a fist. "But I guess that's still two bad to one good, huh?"

"I said they were tough and bland, not unsalvageable," Emiya said, pushing off the dishes to Harada, who also ate some, nodding his head at the curry.

"Emiya-san's right, Ritsuka," Harada added. "No one, not me and Emiya, became like this in one night, you know. We'll do this again a few days from now."

Ritsuka smiled. "Right. Well, this was kinda fun, honestly," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "See you two tomo–"

"We're not done yet, Ritsuka. Time to clean the plates and utensils."

"Now you're just using me!" Ritsuka complained, yet he already started walking to the sink, and this time, Emiya did not bother holding in his laughter.

As Emiya washed the dishes, a small, genuine smile caught him off guard when its reflection appeared on one of the plates.

Maybe it was too early to tell, maybe he'd even regret thinking about it in the future.

But for now, Emiya had to say:

"I can get used to this."

Hey

So, I kinda wanna say something.

This is another filler chapter (though with some setup), yeah.

Here's the thing: I consider this as much of an FGO fic as much as it is an OPM fic. Sometimes I just want to write about Chaldea, and in those chapters, King might only play a miniscule role (like here) and some others he might not play one at all (though his influence on how Chaldea operates will be ever-present).

All that being said, I understand if big amounts of 'filler', even if they serve the purpose of setting things up and small, more contained developments, is a bit of a turn off. So, if ever you feel the story gets too boring, and the updates too infrequent, you can just, idk, wait until the next singularity arc starts I guess, and binge the fillers by then, to lessen the slog, so to speak.

Anyway.

You might already catch on here, but in case you haven't, I'm having Emiya/Artoria (as in OG Saber) as one of the endgame ships on the fic. Yeah, I kinda get if you're not into it because Emiya isn't really Shirou, but consider the following:

The concept is kinda cute, isn't it?

Well, as always, tell me what you think of the chapter.

Next Chapter: Jalter (Jeanne Alter? Jean?) Navigates Chaldea

Later