Fate/Moon White Redux (RP)

[Spinach]

Ryougi Kirame
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 22:54
Day: January 12^th

“Haaah… Haaah…”

Pained breathing, low and slow. His chest was on fire, inside and out. Every inch of his body had been burnt, run through with molten steel.

He clutched his chest, squeezing down the fabric of his shirt over his heart.

It was the core of his body, where every process had begun, where every process had ended. He had become the forge, his body itself serving as the smithy where this fine blade, his Servant, would be crafted.

His legs felt weak, and he focused what little strength remained in him to staying upright.

“Haah… Haah…” His breath began to return to him.

The crimson glow of the Command Seal mirrored the memory of red-hot pain as magma flooded his veins. He knew pain, but not from within. Only outward, the pain of battle. The sizzling memory lingering in his flesh, coursing through his blood, was a new pain, but it was still only that.

Pain. Something he can endure. Water had already ran him through, mending what had been burnt. The damage was already healed, now only a memory lingered. Telling himself that he took his hand away from his chest, releasing the grip over his heart and leaving a bloody stain.

"A place of creation. To come forth here... it is a strange rebirth."

Grey, metallic eyes met coal. An anxious, pained smile welcomed the Servant to the cold island of Tengetsu. He could feel it, the presence of the man within the circle. An undeniably greater being, a legend by all right.

"Servant Artificer has answered summons tonight, young one. I would ask of you. Are you my Master?"

“That’s right.” He rose his arm, showing the proof of the contract, his Command Seals. Three red katana, overlapping over each other to make a familiar shape. A straight forward pattern, not elaborate in the slightest. One that suited Ryougi Kirame in all ways.

He raised his other hand, stained with the blood he had shed for the summoning. The Command Seals on his left were his proof as a Master, the blood on his right was the pain he had endured in the summoning. His desire for a wish, and the will to spill blood for it.

“I am Ryougi Kirame. Side by side we will shed and spill blood together for the Holy Grail, Artificer.”

He answered with a smile, his steel eyes alight at the prospect of battle. Drained both mentally and physically by the summoning, only the spirit of battle still burnt at full strength in him.

[Mellon]

Maker
Location - Harbor - Family House - Basement
Phase - Night
Time - 22:23
Day - January 12

"Ah, I... I summoned you, so that must make me your Master. I ask of you to fight for me in this Holy Grail War until it concludes with our victory."

As their hands clasped one another, another understanding smile blossomed on Maker’s face.

“Then the contract between us is complete. From henceforth, my will shall craft thy victory and your fate will be with me.”

Waves of nervousness rushed out of the rather young nun in front of her, which brought out an almost uncharacteristic chuckle from her. It seems that despite hoping to be a participant in this “war”, her Master possessed a childlike innocence and exuberance, that was… uncharacteristic of one that would take up the role of a “Master”. It was an aspect that brought both sadness and relief to her in many ways. Relief in the sense that she herself, as a Servant, would probably not possess the highest compatibility with traditional Masters. There were many methods that might bring victory in a war such as this, but Maker was incompatible with many of them. Not because of what she was capable of, but rather due to what she believed in.

As a Servant, she should be the only one to ever suffer in this war.

A disposable being summoned for a slaughter of legends. If things turned out that way, then that would surely be the best possible result. No-one of this world, even if they were prepared to kill others for their dream and trample on their hopes and dreams, should be forced to die meaninglessly. They, irrelevant figments from a long lost age, should take the full brunt of the worlds anger, for daring to step outside the mists of time. Sacrificing herself was something that Maker had fully embraced, even in her life. In that regard, this undeath of her was no exception. And that was where her sadness came from.

An girl such as her Master should not be fighting for a dream built on blood. Those that hold honest innocence in their hearts, do not need a miracle such as this to change the world.

"Ah, that's right! I am Anna Bernhart, an Executor of the Holy Church. How would you like me to refer to you, my Servant?"

An unbidden murmur suddenly arose from Maker’s lips.

“So the Church never found its true path in the end...”

Giving an elegant shake of her head to banish the thought, the Servant in the elaborate dress let out another small chuckle at her Master’s exuberance and gave Anna a small, respectful bow. The young nun’s kind smile was reflected on Maker’s face, as she introduced herself to her Master.

“In the days of my life, I was called _________________. However, the class granted to me by the Holy Grail is that of Maker. While I personally, have no qualms with thy use of my maiden name, for the sake of practicality, I suggest that you refer to me with the name of my class, Master.”

“Handing an advantage to our enemies because of excessive confidence would be something I would like to avoid. However, should you truly desire it, I shall acquiesce on this matter.”

"Well... I suppose we should determine what we shall be doing tonight. There is plenty of time before sunrise, which means that we have plenty of time to measure our competition. Not to mention that a lot of them will most likely be heading towards a very specific place…

“There is no need to rush into things, Master. Even if what you say is true, I am not a Servant whose strengths truly lie in reconnaissance, such as Assassin or Caster. A haphazard approach could only leave us entwined ourselves.”

“For tonight however, I suggest we stay in your residence and prepare for the days to come. It would surely be of help to you to understand of my nature as a Servant and what I am capable of. And I myself would be very interested in talking about you, Master. As well as why you have chosen to take part in this War.”

Maker’s eyes briefly left Anna’s and glanced at the surrounding basement for a second, before returning.

“However, maybe perhaps we can continue this conversation upstairs? Unless there is a reason to remain in the basement, of course. Seeing the night sky once more would be of great enjoyment to me, Master.”

[hero]

Azama Tae
Location: Upasmike Forest - Tae's Cabin
Phase: Night
Time: 21:32
Day: January 12^th


"..."

I am being tested. Her eyes and her smile tell me that much. Naturally, fear begins pouring out of my heart, as the trial I am facing is far from ordinary. One wrong answer and my life could very well end at this very moment. At the same time, there is no guarantee that silence will not bring about a similar outcome. From my understanding, there are several weapons I could use against a Servant as a Master. Certainly the Command Seals are not the only tool at my disposal. However, those will not do. This is not the kind of situation where I can make use of them without getting myself killed. If that's the case, then the only option left is to fight. Even against this oppressive aura, I have to fight to show I am the Master here.

"I have no wish." I announce, but quickly correct myself. "No, that's not entirely true. There might be people capable of denying their wishes or fooling themselves into thinking they have none, but a person without a wish... I do not think such thing exists."

I pause for a moment to collect myself. I must not delay my answer any further and deliver it clearly so no doubts are left in Saber's mind. To do that, I need to pick my words carefully.

"What I meant is that I have no wish to ask the Mocking Grail. I was chosen to participate in this war against my will, by fate perhaps, so I don't have any urgent need for a miracle. In other words, Servant Saber, I am offering you the chance to grant your wish in my stead."

But that's just the beginning. Though I have done my best to eliminate any misunderstandings during our first exchange, the truth of the matter is that I still haven't replied to any of Saber's questions. That is to say, I haven't answered her trial yet.

"I invite you to judge, through the course of this war, if my morals and objectives conflict with yours. Then, you may act as you see fit. Likewise, if I find your wish would bring harm to me or the things I care about, I will act accordingly. I believe I don't have to go into detail as to what that entails."

Yes, should it come to that point, even this spirit, this Servant who belongs to the strongest of classes, all of which dwarf my own powers, would become my enemy. It's not a matter of being able to defeat her or not, from the beginning that possibility was out of the question. I've never seen a Servant fight in my life, but I instinctively understand that I would not stand a chance against Saber, even if I was focusing entirely on staying alive. Regardless, if that day when I must defend myself against Saber arrives, I will oppose her without hesitation and show no fear.

Because, when it comes down to it, fighting for those things is what matters the most.

"If you have any more questions to ask, Saber, ask them. If you comply to these terms, then sign the contract."

[Leftovers]

Astrid Hildebrandt
Location: Upasmike Forest
Phase: Night
Time: 20:20
Day: January 12th

When her eyes adjusted, the first thing she saw were the brands, seared onto the back of her left hand. Glowing a vivid red, like coals revitalised by an onrush of oxygen, they radiated a throbbing pain that seemed to pulse through her body at the rhythm of her heartbeats. Having dispensed of her gloves to precisely draw the magic circle, the cold wind dulled the pain, but it was felt regardless. Through these seals, a link had been established.

Then, she heard it.

“Aah, so I take it that you are my Master?”

The languorous voice that seemed to have a physical presence, wrapping around her with the gentleness of a lover and the hidden intent of a prowling predator. Words like a playful caress filled the clearing, and Astrid lifted her gaze from the Command Seals to meet the voice's owner---

...and her breath hitched in her throat. How could it not, when confronted with such an overwhelming, sheer presence?

Fair hair cascading like a river of gold, a flowing dress fluttering in the winter chill, and a face of unspeakable splendour, the kind that would inspire the Old Masters to capture even a portion of it on the canvas, or a nation to march for war just for a single of her smiles. In the small clearing, framed by moonlight, this woman's — this Servant's — unearthly beauty was a sight that would stay with Astrid for the rest of her days.

A bare foot stepped on pure snow, hardly leaving a mark on its surface. Soon, it was followed by another, then another, as the the Servant slowly crossed the clearing to approach Astrid. She seemed to be studying her too, though she did not yet know what it could be that the woman was looking for. Was it the proof of the contract, the Command Seals? Or perhaps those eyes of hers were searching for a another sort of sign, one only she could detect?

Astrid was transfixed, rooted on the spot despite herself. The finger that was tracing her shoulders seemed to hold her entire body in place, despite the Servant exerting no pressure at all. Rather, she was content to circle her, running her eyes over the contours of her body, making remarks all the while in her almost drawling, yet lilted tone.

“Hmm, you could use some ointment for that cracked lip and any skin blemishes...I recommend not to smoke, even though that kind of luxury didn't exist in my time, it's ruining your beautiful face. Also, you’re getting split hairs...poor girl, how will you ever get a man to fall for you in that state, hmm?”

What could Astrid say to that? She had expected a formal introduction, to confirm and finalise the contract between Master and Servant, but this woman seemed to have no interest in such a thing. She knew that Servants could be difficult to deal with, and often defied the expectations of their Masters, but even El Melloi would have been given pause by this strange, otherworldly woman.

For the summon to have drawn her here, she surely was one of mankind's greatest. But why did it feel as if the Mocking Grail had summoned a mockery of a Hero?

Whatever response she might have prepared died before utterance when a pair of thin arms coiled themselves around her from the back, stroking her chin with long, tender fingers. What might have looked like an intimate embrace, infinitely gentle; but this, too, was a mockery. Snared in the beautiful woman's clutches, having honeyed words whispered in her ear, Astrid felt no warmth; rather, she felt like a constrictor snake had enveloped her, purring soft reassurances to its imminent victim.

Those words were not empty, but she could not discern their true depths. Everything about the woman was mesmerising, a mystery wrapped in an enigma, but the chill the hot breath that whispered in her ear brought running down her spine was all too real.

“But don’t worry, dear. As long as you have me as your pet, all your worldly desires may come true...one way or another. Ufufufufu…”

It was over in an instant, but the sensation stayed with her for a long time, a lingering afterimage. Suddenly Astrid felt impossibly cold, as if she had been abruptly deprived of something vital, something she could not live without. With a hazy mind, she regarded the enchanting woman, who had now retreated to conversation distance.

So, this is the influence a Servant can exert. Truly...fearsome.

It felt like an indeterminate amount of time had passed until Astrid finally regained her bearings. For the Servant, it made no difference if it had only been a few seconds or an eternity, for she stood at the same spot like an apparition, smiling, judging.

Straightening out her outfit was simple enough, but keeping her voice level was a struggle. But she was determined to not show weakness to her Servant; partly because of her pride, but she had a hunch that if this woman were to discover a chink in her armor, she would take great delight in prying it open, laughing all the while.

Her hand trembled slightly, but her words were delivered evenly, as if she had not been phased by the Servant's unexpected assault on her composure, although she knew the woman would hardly be fooled.

"Haaaaah, what a relief it is to hear that. It's good to see my partner taking such an active interest in my well-being already. Truly, I feel that I am in safe hands."

Her words oozed nonchalance, nothing in them hinting at an inflection of sarcasm, but the tone of their relationship had already been set. A game of dominance between Master and Servant, sparring with verbal blades concealed in assumed courtesy. Each pretending to be unaffected while chipping away at the other's mental armor, a covert power play. Such was the dynamic that was taking shape between the two women.

"But you know, whatever people may say, smoking is ultimately not about the taste, the addiction, or its chemical effects on the brain. At its core, smoking is an accessory, and also a tool with a specific purpose. Just like this suit and tie create a profile that befits my purposes, a cigarette ties the image together, creating an icon, a mask."

Retrieving said item as if to punctuate her point, she twirled it around her fingers like an expert drummer wielding his drumsticks.

"I say 'mask' because that is what it ultimately is: the image that society has of a certain kind of person, and to which they unconsciously compare the reality that surrounds them. To match that archetype means to fit in with that person's worldview - his common sense - and that gives him security and peace of mind. When one looks at me, he will see the world as it should be, something he can believe to be exactly what he thinks it is. In that comfort, he does not suspect; in that credence, he does not hesitate to confide. As with the corrective force of the World, so it is with human perception: they are not drawn to the vast sea of uniformity, but to the nail that sticks out of the whole."

With two quick flicks of the wrist, the cigarette was lit, the tip glowing in the twilight like a ruby.

"You must think it pretentious to justify a simple vice with such voluminous explications, and perhaps you are right. But make no mistake; though this is by function a mask, it is also unquestionably my true self."

Taking a step forward to close in on the Servant, Astrid took the initiative for the first time in their brief relationship. Towering over her by a good margin, Astrid met the Servant's smile with one of her own. On her left hand, extended for a handshake to seal their pact, the Command Seals gleamed.

"I ask of you then, my Servant. Will you stand beside my true self in this great battle, under the Heaven's Moon?"

From this distance, Astrid could clearly gaze into the depths of the woman's eyes.


And they were like unto a Demon's.

[Bloble]

Artificer
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 22:55
Day: January 12^th

"Hmm."

Artificer nods at the boy's words. He sees the blood that has been shed and accepts it. His Master is one that possesses the needed qualities. The boy will kill and fight and shed blood, both his own and that of others, to see the Holy Grail in his hands. Such a Master is ideal.

"Then, with that resolve of yours, our contract has been forged. I shall shape your fate with these hands, so that you may reach victory with certainty."

However.

"However, before anything else is done, I prefer to establish the context of this relationship, and correct any misunderstandings that may have arisen."

His Master has erred in one aspect. Artificer, despite keeping his expression completely neutral during his introduction, is only too eager to point it out. As he does so, and the smoke clears away, one thing becomes abundantly clear:

This Servant is not battle-worn. He has not been blessed with a powerful body, nor does he possess a fine suit or armour to turn away enemy blades. His build is hidden under those voluminous clothes, but he could be hypothesized to be scrawny. In fact, he stands much shorter than his own Master. Yes, the only truly experienced part of this Servant would have to be his hands.

"Master," Artificer says flatly. "I will do a great many things for the Holy Grail. After all, I did accept your summoning. However, I will not shed blood by your side, for what use is a blade that cannot cut? Leave me be, Master. I will not destroy for you."

It is a flat declaration. This Servant wishes to be part of a War, but he will not fight. In one sentence, he rejects violence and turns his back on the sacred oath he swore to. What runs through Artificer's mind? What logic brought him to that conclusion? In a moment, it becomes abundantly clear. There is more than one way to fight a war.

"However..."

However.

There is a sheathed sword at Artificer's side, hanging awkwardly from his thin waist. He takes a free hand and pushes it up by the hilt, exposing the first few centimetres of its hilt with a sharp click.

For anyone that looks upon it and has even the tiniest knowledge of forgery, it is a masterpiece surpassing anything that can be seen in the world. Just that glimpse is enough to signify that he who created that sword has achieved the highest level of craftsmanship that Man can reach, and then gone further. It is beautiful. Too beautiful. One could almost get lost in those lines.

Then he releases it, and the blade is hidden once more.

"...I will create."

[Snax]

Trickster
Location: Upasmike Forest
Phase: Night
Time: 20:20
Day: January 12th

"Haaaaah, what a relief it is to hear that. It's good to see my partner taking such an active interest in my well-being already. Truly, I feel that I am in safe hands."

Trickster merely smiled, sensing how her Master was trying to set the tone. Better than expected from anyone hit with her charm for the first time, at least - this person wasn’t one who would bore her, it seemed. Truly, nothing was more fun than a verbal exchange where one’s wit was the main factor. However, that was not all to a woman’s arsenal...

"But you know, whatever people may say, smoking is ultimately not about the taste, the addiction, or its chemical effects on the brain. At its core, smoking is an accessory, and also a tool with a specific purpose. Just like this suit and tie create a profile that befits my purposes, a cigarette ties the image together, creating an icon, a mask."

Smiling as her Master took out a new cigarette, Trickster merely drew closer as the woman put on her so called ‘mask’. She eyed the stick of paper like a cat would, furtively but intently.

In fact, Trickster was somewhat interested in the luxury, as well. She had indulged in almost every luxury there was in her lifetime - nobody denied her everything, for the world was her oyster. However, all the new vices of this era were now open to her - and nobody to stop her from enjoying her new life.

"I say 'mask' because that is what it ultimately is: the image that society has of a certain kind of person, and to which they unconsciously compare the reality that surrounds them. To match that archetype means to fit in with that person's worldview - his common sense - and that gives him security and peace of mind. When one looks at me, he will see the world as it should be, something he can believe to be exactly what he thinks it is. In that comfort, he does not suspect; in that credence, he does not hesitate to confide. As with the corrective force of the World, so it is with human perception: they are not drawn to the vast sea of uniformity, but to the nail that sticks out of the whole."

The flame was lit. The smoke flew.

"I ask of you then, my Servant. Will you stand beside my true self in this great battle, under the Heaven's Moon?"

Trickster smiled, her eyes glinting in interest and humor. Of course, who was she to ever let go of this opportunity at a second life?

“My, my, ufufu... Quite the philosopher, aren't we? Only humans ever cared to complicate every simple fact upon this land in the name of wit and intelligence...And I must say, I do not dislike that part of you. I did always have a thing for storytellers and intelligent people..However...”

Giggling ever so slightly, Trickster paced around her new Master languidly, approaching slowly, at a slow pace, her body undulating and flowing, every inch of it showing off her radiance that nobody was able to take their eyes off.

“A mask, was it… Please, Master. Masks are my specialty, for I am Trickster, your new Servant. It will be a pleasure to serve you as your hands and feet. While I am not one for brutish violence or mindless clashes, this battle shall be ours to win, no doubt - .”

Smiling slyly, almost as if a fox, she took the hand of her master, and then quickly drew it towards herself, dragging her master into her embrace. Considering her Master was far taller, however, it was as if Trickster was looking up at a man of her era...Giggling ever so slightly at the thought, Trickster opened her mouth again.

“But first, you will promise me that we will enjoy this as much as possible. For what is life without a little merriment? Alas, nothing. After all, to live is to enjoy...”

Laughing clearly as if a bell’s chime, Trickster gently plucked the cigarette from her Master’s hand and took a brief drag on it. A small puff of smoke escaped her mouth as she exhaled ever so gently into the air, making smoke rings with ease.

“Hm.. not bad. Still, it’s lacking in taste…?”

Looking coyly at her Master, Trickster had an idea. Smiling even wider, she grabbed her Master’s tie, dragging her face down towards her own. Gently rising on her tiptoes, her face approached her new Master’s slowly, ever so slowly - and then took her mouth in her own, slowly pressing her tongue into her partner’s - like a snake would enter a small, moist orifice.

“~~~~~~”

A little bit of tongue twisting and acrobatics could do wonders to the atmosphere. When Trickster finally let go, her face was slightly flushed, smiling like a cat looking at a particularly tasty morsel. Although in the case of her Master...

[Spinach]

Ryougi Kirame
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 22:56
Day: January 12^th

"Master," Artificer says flatly. "I will do a great many things for the Holy Grail. After all, I did accept your summoning. However, I will not shed blood by your side, for what use is a blade that cannot cut? Leave me be, Master. I will not destroy for you."

“Then…!” A voice of protest rose up to the Servant’s words. ‘What use is a blade that cannot cut?’ ‘I will not destroy for you.’ It was a preposterous, presumptuous statement. Kirame would not allow his Servant to not participate, he would correct the Servant, if not by words then by force, but before any further words could be uttered.

"However..."

The voice of the Servant cut down his protest. The words of Kirame were not violently slain, but instead his complaints were elegantly laid to rest. The sharp click of Artificer’s blade that he displayed cut down the voice of his Master in one single, masterful stroke.

He could see it clearly, that what was held by this Servant was a blade forged with skill that did not exist in this world any longer. A masterpiece that could not be reproduced by any living man.

As a swordsman, not as a smith, Kirame understood immediately what was before him. The man in front of him was no warrior. In spite of the vast presence the tiny Servant exuded, the overwhelming power that is contained in the spirit’s body, it was not a power that was deadly or forceful. The thin frame of the man lacked the strength that a battle-hardened warrior would possess. He did not carry himself as such either.

Kirame should have expected such a man to answer his summoning. The catalyst he had used, the one he had called for was not a warrior by any means.

"...I will create."

The man before him was the one that forges the heart and soul of every swordsman.

“… Nozomi. Sword.” With his eyes still locked with those of his Servant, Kirame issued a rare, direct order to the young girl.

Unlike before, the girl was standing. The sight of the Servant had drawn her to her feet, and her eyes were wide with both awe and admiration. As someone who possessed talent as a blacksmith, she could recognize the master before her for what he was. Kirame understood the skill of the one before him as a Servant, but what Nozomi felt was the intuition of a prodigy. That the one before her was in all aspects her superior, one she could learn much from.

Without a word the girl picked up a single sword adorned with a tiny charm hung from the hilt, resting against the wall alongside many others, and brought it to Kirame. The energetic girl, usually a loud, blabbermouth, was still struck silent, or rather left speechless, at the sight of the Servant Artificer.

“Then, Artificer.” Kirame held the sword before the Servant, drawing it from its sheath partially. The red steel of the blade exposed itself to the cold air of Tengetsu in the hands of its wielder for the first time, displaying its blood-craving visage to the master blacksmith.

“If you will craft for me swords that surpass this, blades that will cut down even legends,” Kirame sheathed the blade, the click of the hilt meeting the sheath echoing in the still air of the smithy, “then that will be enough.”

The man lowered the sheathed sword to his side.

“Your strength is to create, my strength is to kill.”

A cold, bloodthirsty smile spread upon his lips. The influence of the sword in his hands.

“One does what one is meant to do. Forge for me the finest swords. I’ll turn them against our enemies, until none are left, and bring back to you the Holy Grail.”

[Mormarth]

Francis York(?) Morgan
Location - Park District - Gongujoudo
Phase - Night
Time - 20:00

I inched my hand away from my eyes slowly, blinking away the dots that flickered through my vision, and gazed upon my Servant, standing amidst my admittedly hashed-together Circle.

She was beautiful.

But, in words that I'd cobble together later, not really in any specific, physical sense, it was the beauty of the Moon, the stars at night, the ocean. Like Beauty as a concept, nothing particularly stood out, it was a very generalized beauty, and while I would remember he presence and her shape, I would not remember the details, her face or appearance. A beautiful framework for a painting that lacked something important.

Slim, pale hair, eastern dress, yellow eyes.

These'd stand out on any, lesser person, but my Servant's sheer being overwhelmed them, it must be a bit sad, I thought, to be remembered as 'beautiful' but not as a person.

She spoke, her gaze gentle, but aloof, unapproachable, what a sad person, I thought.

"I am Enchanter, Servant. For the sake of the contract, I have answered my Master's summons. I ask of you, are you my Master?"

Oh, uh, right, got kind of carried away there for a second, I cleared my throat awkwardly, "Ah, yes. For the sake of the Contract, I have summoned you, I am Francis-" I paused, struggling with my words, "You can call me York, that's what everyone calls me, more or less, pleased to meet you, Enchanter, I'll be your Master in this War."

I inclined my head, the solemnity of the scene stood, immaculate for a brief second.

Then, like most art, it came crashing down when my damned stomach growled loud enough to wake the dead, I flushed, it turns out that fasting in order to purify the body for a proper summoning is a bit much when you haven't eaten anything all day.

Ugh.

[Bloble]

Artificer
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 22:58
Day: January 12^th

Well.

This is an unexpected development.

"Master, I've not met the man who created that blade, nor its brothers," Artificer says. Despite the negative, he approaches, stepping out of the circle for the first time. In a moment, he is before his Master, and their height difference is emphasized. "In a sense, he met me. This is one of his finer works. To divide his attention during creation and ensure a completely even product... certainly, he was very skilled."

In an instant, the disconnect is realized. Rather than talking about the weapon, Artificer has skipped straight to speaking of the one who created them like a brother. Now he speaks of how they were forged, as if he was there himself.

"That red coloration is after my time, I think, but that's an interesting way of achieving it..." After a moment, the Servant realizes that he's come dangerously close to mumbling by himself, and backs off for a moment, forcing his eyes away.

"Yes, Master." He looks Kirame in the eyes and nods. There is no arrogance in his gaze, only confidence that has surpassed itself so often it is no longer confidence at all; merely fact. "I can do you one better than this. Though I would never be able to make a sword quite like Nanae, I can do what its creator couldn't."

He removes the pipe from his robes and takes another step back, this time lending his gaze to the place of his summoning. His eyes roam the wooden walls, the tools surrounding him, and even the young girl that has been standing there the whole time. For a moment Artificer blinks, as if he had only just then noticed her. His eyes roam across Nozomi, taking in her clothes, hands, and hair. Then he nods.

"Greetings to you as well," he says. "I assume you are an acquaintance of my Master. In that case, you may consider me at your service."

Then he turns back to Kirame. "I shall be blunt. A forge is needed. This place shall do. It has history and charm. Allow me to claim it, Master, and I can get to work this very minute."

[Spinach]

Ryougi Kirame
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 23:00
Day: January 12^th

A look of disappointment answered the first of Artificer’s words. His speech confirmed that the catalyst had not summoned the specifically desired Heroic Spirit, but rather another.

It wasn’t something that needed to be said. The Servant before him did not possess the same aura as the Nanae did. The blood-craze embedded into the red blade was directly inherited from the one that had forged it, so long ago. Such a craze was nowhere to be found in the man of such small stature, weak yet strong.

Kirame had expected the blacksmith who he believed would perfectly suit his needs and purpose, but the disappointment at not summoning that man was quickly washed away. The one before him possessed skill that would not disappoint. That he felt, down to the core of him, and when Artificer confidently proclaimed that he would surpass the sword in his hands a glint of anticipation lit up in his eyes.

"Greetings to you as well," he says. "I assume you are an acquaintance of my Master. In that case, you may consider me at your service."

“Iya… yaya…” Unable to find the words, or rather the strength of heart to withstand such a master offering his service to her, Nozomi stuttered back in response, waving her hands in front of her with palms open to refuse the Servant in front of her ‘being at her service.’

"I shall be blunt. A forge is needed. This place shall do. It has history and charm. Allow me to claim it, Master, and I can get to work this very minute."

“Do what you must, Artificer.” Kirame answered, putting his hand on Nozomi’s head, which snapped the girl out of her frantic attempts to find words. “Nozomi, help him however you can. This is a good chance to get that ‘experience’ the old man asked me to help you find.”

“R-Right.” Finally finding words and calming down, if only a little, the girl answered. With eyes beaming she looked up to the master blacksmith and spoke with a voice full of admiration. “I’ll be helpin’ ya with anythin’ ya need, Artificer.”

“Nozomi here’s got a lotta talent.” Kirame added, ruffling her hair with his hand. “She’ll be useful. In exchange, teach her a few things if you can.”

[Leftovers]

Astrid Hildebrandt
Location: Upasmike Forest
Phase: Night
Time: 20:22
Day: January 12th

At that moment, she felt that the advantage had shifted, or at least struck a balance. Reflecting on it later, she could clearly see the foolishness of that notion, uncharacteristically hasty and irrational as it was, but the unique conditions of the moment always served as a credible - if convenient - excuse.

Perhaps there were things that Astrid was unwilling to admit even to herself.

Her lofty speech did not seem to faze the Servant; if anything, she looked positively delighted, her eyes crinkling in joy to bring out charming lines. But that smile...

“My, my, ufufu... Quite the philosopher, aren't we? Only humans ever cared to complicate every simple fact upon this land in the name of wit and intelligence...And I must say, I do not dislike that part of you. I did always have a thing for storytellers and intelligent people..However...”

...could not in good faith be described as beatific, any more than a lion licking its fangs in anticipation of a meal can be interpreted as affection for its prey.

Or better yet, this sashaying woman who was now closing into Astrid was a cat, still undecided on whether to play with her, or devour her. Coating her assault in languid words and velvet touches, laying siege to the mind and body with her target none the wiser; that was the game her Servant was capable of playing.

But even then, Astrid did not yet understand.

“A mask, was it… Please, Master. Masks are my specialty, for I am Trickster, your new Servant. It will be a pleasure to serve you as your hands and feet. While I am not one for brutish violence or mindless clashes, this battle shall be ours to win, no doubt-”

A hand wrapped around her own, the warmth of her skin warding off the chill of the winter night. All that Astrid managed to notice was that the woman's skin was perfectly smooth and soft like velvet. Then, she was swept off her feet by the much smaller woman, falling into her embrace like a doll with severed strings. Caught by surprise, she could only lay there inert, her body defenseless and pliable to the Servant's touch.

The warmth had returned again, sliding into place like a long-missing piece finally reunited with the whole. In the frigid night, her unresponsive body felt like it was suddenly thrust in a furnace.

She didn't even notice the cigarette being plucked from her fingers until the rings of smoke that left the woman's mouth caressed the side of her face. Unsteadily, she tried to lift her head and look at her — the alluring woman, the enticing demon, her partner in this holy night.

Her eyes were dancing like hidden flames. What was it that she had said...?

“But first, you will promise me that we will enjoy this as much as possible. For what is life without a little merriment? Alas, nothing. After all, to live is to enjoy...”

In her bleary eyes, the glow of the cigarette was the sole visible point in the darkness. Even though she could not move a muscle, her body was aware of every inch of the soft flesh that was pressed against it. Trailing through the air like the smoke of the cigarette, a voice cut through the haze of her senses like a knife.

“Hm.. not bad. Still, it’s lacking in taste…?”

Then, lips met lips, and the self of Astrid Hildebrandt was briefly, but utterly, taken over.

---

When she came to, the moon was gone, hidden behind the rolling clouds that heralded fate.

Her head pounded, but there was no pain. It was merely the pulse of her own magical energy in her circuits, brought to a state of fervent overdrive. A charm, it had to be that. How had she been so careless as to not notice something so basic?

The answer to that question would not long remain a mystery. Turning her eyes to her, Astrid finally truly understood the might of her Servant. This woman whose visage could never be defined as merely 'beautiful', aglow with a flush of excitement, grinning like she had just stolen victory right under Astrid's nose.

And she had, hadn't she. It was her complete, decisive victory. Astrid had severely underestimated her Servant, and now her first battle of the Holy Grail War had been lost.

Fought in a battlefield as much mental as physical, this was a battle both with the Servant and against her own self. A battlefield she would have to learn how to fight in, lest she become lost in that illusionary haze again.

"Trickster, is it..."

Even if the first battle had ended at her loss, it had been a learning experience. Easing into the Servant's embrace, her words signed the contract that bound their fates together.

"If I did not intend to enjoy myself, I would not have come to this island in the first place."

[Bloble]

Artificer
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 23:04
Day: January 12^th

"Talent, eh? That remains to be seen."

There was nothing insulting in Artificer's tone. He was simply one that doubted words and relied primarily on proof to confirm any suspicions. At the same time, he wasn't cruel enough to refuse an offer of aid. In fact, a certain spark lit up in the man's eyes at the mention of an aide.

"Well, since my Master said it, a chance will be given. It has been a while since I took an apprentice. Worry not, girl. You will most certainly learn something. However, your instructions will be brief, and the majority of your 'experience' will need to come via osmosis."

Artificer cracked his finger. His coal eyes shone with a deeper red, of embers with life still in them.

"This is, after all, a War. Time is not ours to waste."

His words had an effect, not on the occupants of the room, but the room itself. The tools seemed to shudder. The walls groaned. He weaved no magic, but symbolically, he claimed the house and everything in it as his Forge. From a being like a Servant, that gesture contained power.

Yes, this place, which had passed down through generations of blacksmiths, now hosted one greater than every one. It welcomed Artificer, and in return he made it his own.

"Yes," he repeated. "This place will do."

[Spinach]

Ryougi Kirame
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 23:06
Day: January 12^th

The air in the old smithy felt a sudden change, fresher, crisp. The dust covering the old tools that permeated the inside of the aged wooden walls disappeared at the claim of ownership Artificer exerted. There was no miracle working or grand mystery in the action, it was simply the presence of the Heroic Spirit who had shaped legendary artifacts with his own hands that commanded such pristine conditions.

Nozomi’s eyes lit up even brighter than before at her apprenticeship, even knowing how short-lived it would be. The Servant’s mastery over the smithy showed her just how far apart the two were, the tools themselves answering his ownership so splendidly. Once they had seemed too aged and worn to be of practical use, but now they appeared pristine, ready for the craft.

“R-ri-… Yes, shishou! I won’ disappoint ya!”

Kirame let go of the girl’s head, walking over to the place where the other swords were kept. Lifting his coat and sweater he revealed his belt, and began placing each sword at his side, evenly distributing them to his right and left. The last sword, the one he had shown to Artificer, he held in his left hand.

“You’ll see what I meant when I said talent, don’t let her age fool you.” Kirame said, sliding open one of the doors that led into the house proper. Tilting his head he looked back into the room, at Artificer. “I’m going to meet the supervisor. The forge is yours, work it as much as you want, Artificer.”

He stepped out of the smithy and began sliding the door behind him shut.

“I expect to see a new masterpiece superior to the sword in my hand soon, blacksmith.”

Sliding the door shut with the last of his words, Kirame made for the entryway, putting his outdoor shoes back on. Stepping into the cold night air of Tengetsu, lit up by a few ancient streetlamps along the way, he turned his eyes to the sky in the distance, where he understood his destination to be. He pulled a letter out of his back pocket, he had completed the first step, now he must complete the second.

Returning the letter to his pocket he blew out a long breath that spread out into the night in a cloud of grey. Kirame ran his hand through his spiky hair with a second breath of resignation.

He had been at least half right. Considering the distance he needed to travel, it would certainly be a long night.

With the crunch of a shoe flattening snow, Kirame passed through the wooden gate of his new property and departed into the night city.

Location: Yamaichi Shrine – Winding Path
Phase: Night
Time: 0:41
Day: January 13^th

In the dark of the cold, still night Ryougi Kirame approached the lengthy path toward the shrine. It had been a long, silent walk, boring and uneventful in every aspects, so much that the dullness couldn’t be understated. Arriving here meant he was near half-done with the last preparation he had as a Master before the beginning of the battle to come.

Telling himself that to combat the boredom, he continued putting one foot in front of the other as he pressed onward through the cold night.

[Rafflesiac]

Xander Stone
Location: Base - The Quarry
Phase: Night
Time: 20:50
Day: January 12th

Archer stood in contemplation, every motion a casual acceptance of my abilities, of my flaws. The haphazard spells at my disposal; if it with this man by my side, then even they can be of use? Even I?

Yet, I have not spoken of my full situation yet. How should I put the last ten years of my life? Words begin to flow, words that I realize for the first time are true as I speak them.

"Good. A spineless fighter is almost worse than no fighter at all."

Once again, Archer finds me satisfactory. Yet what of my goal, my desire, my wish?

"I see. A wish like that is one to strive for. So be it; I will help you win the Holy Grail."

With a slight hiss, my breath seeps out in relief. I sink deeper into the couch, muscles uncoiling and nerves calming. Even if in this one moment, I have been accepted in full.

For the first time, I am worthy.

"I see that you are tired, Master. I will not keep you from your rest, but is there anything you would like to ask of me?"

Tired?

A day’s exhaustions crash down on me in a second, rooting my legs to the floor. The food I hadn’t eaten since this morning, the lengthy trek up the mountain to the Yamaichi Shrine, the exhaustive toll taken on a body far too used to pain; each of these announced their presence at once.

There are many questions I want to ask: Who are you? What can you do? What is our best course of action?

But in the condition I am in, there is no way I could truly understand any answers.

“Thanks, Archer. I do have many questions, but I’ll have to leave them for tomorrow. Your room is the one by the steps on the second floor, if you require it. As for me,” I say, groaning as I rise from my seat, “my room is at the end of the hall on the second floor. I’ll be headed there to recover. Would you keep watch? There may be other enemies already in motion.”

I shudder a bit from cramped legs, and pause. Now that I think about it, there is an important thing I should mention.

“Furthermore, there is a supervisor of this War, who possesses the Servant Ruler.”

I move toward the steps, body groaning in ignored protest.

“Good night, Archer. I’ll be able to talk in more depth in the morning.”

[Antary]

Anna Bernhart
Location - Harbor - Family House - Basement
Phase - Night
Time - 22:25
Day - January 12

“In the days of my life, I was called _________________. However, the class granted to me by the Holy Grail is that of Maker. While I personally, have no qualms with thy use of my maiden name, for the sake of practicality, I suggest that you refer to me with the name of my class, Master.”

"Of course, then, Maker!" Anna exclaimed, though the truth was, her Servant's name told her very little. She recognized it, but to say that she understood what it meant in this particular context, the context of a Holy Grail War, would be wrong.

“There is no need to rush into things, Master. Even if what you say is true, I am not a Servant whose strengths truly lie in reconnaissance, such as Assassin or Caster. A haphazard approach could only leave us entwined ourselves.”

"Ah, that kind of scouting isn't really what I meant. But you're probably right; classes like those two would benefit more than us if we got careless," Anna placed a long sleeve-covered hand to her mouth, once again contemplating out loud. "Yes, you're right, Maker. We should make sure we're ready before we try anything."

“However, maybe perhaps we can continue this conversation upstairs? Unless there is a reason to remain in the basement, of course. Seeing the night sky once more would be of great enjoyment to me, Master.”

"Oh, of course, of course," Anna said, walking out of the basement. "Though, I warn you, the house above could use some cleaning; it's quite dusty. Unfortunately, I did not have the time for that yet - it was a busy day."

She lead her Servant up into the unlit rooms. After sliding her palm against the wall for a little bit, she flipped the lights on. They were inside a rather average family house. The walls and desks of every room were adorned with countless religious baubles, which was probably the only thing that made this house stand out from others like it, at least on the inside.

"Well, welcome to my humble abode for this Holy Grail War. It's in no way lavish, but it is quite secure and covert," The girl went into the house's kitchen, turning on the lights there as well. "Would you like some tea, Maker? We have a lot to discuss, I'm sure, and I would rather not come off as inhospitable. Sit wherever you like, by the way..."

The teakettle was warming up; Anna took a seat behind the kitchen table, hoping that her Servant wouldn't shy away or otherwise feel unhappy over her (perhaps overly) friendly attitude. It'd be inaccurate to say that Anna was fully composed - she was still anxious, especially after having heard Maker's true name, and doubted that her hospitality was enough to satisfy someone like her Servant. Of course, she tried to at least look calm, and held herself rather well.

"You asked me why I joined this War? Well, I'd be lying if I said that I took part in it of my own volition. I received an order to participate, and as such, I obviously could not disobey. But... after He had told me why it was necessary, I had no desire to refuse, either..." Anna mused, occasionally glancing over to the kettle. "But, Maker, your wish is your own, am I correct? Could you tell me about your reasons, too? Of course, if you don't wish to talk about them, that will be fine."

[Bloble]

Artificer
Location: Old Town – Base
Phase: Night
Time: 23:10
Day: January 12^th

And so, as quickly as they had been introduced, Artificer's Master was gone, possibly to get himself killed. Such a quick meeting it had been, too.

Well, he was used to that sort of thing.

"He certainly is an impatient Master. I suppose it was inevitable. One who creates and one who destroys are two sides of the same coin," Artificer addressed Nozomi. Normally he would keep his thoughts silent, but having an apprentice necessitated a bit of talking. Well, it wasn't as if he hated that sort of thing. "They are doomed to be separate, but a certain symbiosis is necessary to keep the wheel turning and the fire burning." In a way, he and his Master stood opposite each other, staring across a river without a bridge.

What to do, now that he was alive?

For a moment, Artificer allowed himself to be overwhelmed by the new world.

There was just so much! So much information in his head! Stories, tales, and knowledge of a new world that he'd never possessed before. Techniques and ideas that hadn't even existed during his time now crowded for attention, each one promising progress and improvement. To integrate each one into his own style would be an impossibility for most. Artificer saw it as yet another simple challenge on the path to his Wish. Magi would weep at humanity's fall, but as a human himself, Artificer could only admire how far they had risen.

For now, he needed to focus. It was the first night, and a young one at that. To begin, he needed to ground himself. Where to start, when he could only create a limited amount before his time ran out again? What to do then?

That was a simple question. The answer was the same as it always was: Make weapons of war for a swordsman.

"You've repaired that sword before," Artificer addressed his apprentice. Just from seeing the weapon, he could tell that its wear and tear had been reversed many times by fairly skilled hands. "After being shown such art, it is time to mirror it. For such a bloodthirsty blade, we shall create one to oppose it as an exercise."

Yes, an exercise. Something familiar, so he could find a base for his abilities and work from there. The Servant container was imperfect, so Artificer would first need to test his skills to see if whether they had been perfectly retained.

"Get the fire going," he ordered his new apprentice. "And prepare some iron. First, I will need a moment to sample the night."

Yes. Before anything else, he needed to taste the world he'd left behind. How had it changed? How had it stagnated and grown? Artificer needed to experience that one thing with his own body, not just as context-less information.

And so he threw open the window, allowing the snow and cold air to blow inside and bless the house with its life.

"Now, before we forge..."

He turned to Nozomi, regarding her as a person rather than a faceless attendant. "You are my Master's companion. As such, you know what kind of a man he is. Tell me, then, what manner of warrior I am equipping, so that we may furnish this weapon to suit his hand."

[Elyrin]

Servant Saber
Location: Upasmike Forest - Tae's Cabin
Phase: Night
Time: 21:33
Day: January 12^th


Understanding the gravity of the situation, the girl showed fear for the first time. Perhaps as a result, her answer was... less than satisfactory. No Servant would ever believe they served a Master with no wish, and the other Masters would descend upon her like vultures. Tae corrected herself shortly after, but still. In my eyes, the damage had been done.

"What I meant is that I have no wish to ask the Mocking Grail. I was chosen to participate in this war against my will, by fate perhaps, so I don't have any urgent need for a miracle. In other words, Servant Saber, I am offering you the chance to grant your wish in my stead."

Her assurance was not enough. I could not expect this girl to win a war with only half a reason to participate. The smile faded, and my expression darkened with every word. A pretty speech would no longer help her cause, but how exactly could I test her directly? As Saber, my options were limited. All I had were the clothes on my back and the sword that served me all those years ago.

It's not like I had another choice. As Azama Tae made her final statement, the weapon appeared in my hands. An old sword, so ancient it was nearly beyond measure, waited in its sheathe. A necessity for the knight of the Sword, the hero almost synonymous with their weapon. I did not expect anyone to recognize me by blade alone, but the chance was there.

If you have any more questions to ask, Saber, ask them. If you comply to these terms, then sign the contract.

"I do not yet believe in your resolve. I would serve willingly, but not for a Master who has only empty words to defend herself." So, I tossed her the sword. It looked simple while it had not been drawn. A long blade with a hand-and-a-half hilt, suitable for use with one hand or two, but maybe too awkward for the magus standing before me. While she examined the borrowed weapon, I could feel that smile creeping over me again.

"One blow each, to test your will to survive and to kill. Know that even with a great legend at your side, you cannot touch me, and other Servants will leave you just as helpless. Know that all your power is nothing against a Hero, and even if I allowed you to kill me with no resistance, you would fail. Know those truths... but still strike without mercy, and weather the storm that approaches."

Watching my Master's plight, I could not help but break into laughter. This time not a carefree laugh of happiness, but the laugh of a tyrant who had captured her last opposition. For just a few seconds, I was the White Queen who ruled over the island, deciding the fate of one last defiant foe. And then it passed, and I spread my arms to welcome my Master's last response.

"You first! Just, please, do no unsheathe the blade. It will allow itself to be carried, but might not permit the transgression of wielding it."

[Satehi]

Servant Saver
Location: Residential District - Old Park
Phase: Night
Time: 22: 46
Day: January 12th

"Where did you come from? And what do you mean 'Master'...?!"

Her frown deepened.

This is strange. This boy, by all logic, could only be the one to have called her forward- her Master.

Yet his first, almost deathly quiet words were most unbecoming of one- to ask a Servant, a being such as herself, questions that should have been trivial for any Master. Even if they were confused from whatever unusual circumstances that took place prior to or during the summon, to forget the simplest basics of what they were doing… seemed unlikely.

Furthermore, to greet ones Servant in their pajamas, outdoors in this weather…

How unusual.

It was not something she could imagine any Master doing on purpose, regardless of how deviant they were. Might her summoning have been an accident?

"I-I'm...Kirisaki Homura."

He says clearly, as he hugs himself in an attempt to keep warm. At the very least, his poor choice of winter clothes was not intentional. She personally did not have to worry, but it would be difficult to carry out a proper conversation with her unusual Master in this weather. It would be best to change locations quickly.

"I...I can stand..."

Given his earlier condition and this weather, it clearly would have been simpler to accept help. The shivers through his body, and the blood he coughed up earlier made it clear to Saver it was nothing more than a show of bravado- whatever pride he possessed made it impossible for him to willingly accept her aid.

She did not mind- it was a very cute gesture, to refuse help even under such circumstances. He had spirit, for sure. But it would have to be disregarded, in this case.

"...Who are you?"

Standing up with pride, she answered her Master’s question.

“As I said before, I am Servant Saver- the Servant you have called forth for this Holy Grail War. I see that you have little understanding of what this means at the moment,” At this point, Saver’s expression, which had been caught in a frown since the beginning of their conversation, promptly turned into a face wide grin. To give her such a clueless, stumbling individual as her Master- this Holy Grail had certainly given her quite a task.

As if to dispel any possible doubt, she proclaimed in a loud, confident voice.

“But! You need not worry, Kirisaki Homura! It is a matter of little concern, for you can rely on this Saver to be your shield, to guide you through this war. No, I insist that you do!”

Ignoring any possible protest, she knelt down and scooped Homura off of the ground, carrying him in her arms. It would be fastest this way, and time spent convincing him would be time wasted.

“I would explain further about your new situation, but this is not the place to talk. Simply know that you can trust me. If you have some residence or hospital nearby, I would ask that you tell me where it is immediately.”

[hero]

Azama Tae
Location: Upasmike Forest - Tae's Cabin
Phase: Night
Time: 21:33
Day: January 12^th


"..."

Just what exactly is she asking of me now...? Even if I swing this sword with all my strength and hit Saber, I doubt it will of much use with the sheathe on. Though I am not experienced in the way of the sword, I can certainly play along and give her a piece of me if she wants one. What I am concerned about is what comes after that. According to the rules she created, we are supposed to exchange one blow each. One attack from me is of no consequence for her, much less with a sword I do not know how to use. Meanwhile, one attack from her could easily leave me with broken bones at the very least, assuming I managed to somehow reduce the force behind her attack and she also held back on purpose. If this is merely a way to prove that she's the superior being, it's a rather convenient way to do so.

"..."

I let myself familiarize with the weight of the sword as I tighten my grip around its handle. At this rate, it's more of a blunt weapon than a bladed one. Needless to say, if Saber was a human being, my choice would be very different. Yet, it remains true that this is the only weapon in my possession which can hurt Saber. For a moment, I close my eyes and concentrate... When I focus, I can feel the connection between Saber and I. That is my advantage.

"One blow each...? Fine by me."

---I open my eyes.

The Servant of the Sword is waiting there for me to strike, her arms open to the sides as if to offer a warm welcome. Though I can already foresee the outcome in my mind, I have no intentions of holding back. I carefully take a few steps forward until I can be sure that she is definitely within the range of the sword. Then, after lifting the weapon above my head, I let it descend with all my strength behind it using my two hands, aiming to hit the Servant's exposed head.

"Haaaaah-!"

[Dranes]

Kirisaki Homura
Location: Residential District - Old Park
Phase: Night
Time: 22: 46
Day: January 12th

“As I said before, I am Servant Saver- the Servant you have called forth for this Holy Grail War. I see that you have little understanding of what this means at the moment."

As she says those words, the frown that had adorned her face turned into something of a grin, obviously finding something amusing with the whole thing and the cold still having no affect on her. So the person in front of me is 'Servant Saver' and I called her somehow to participate in a 'Holy Grail War'. Right, now I get it, it all makes sense now...

I've gone insane.

“But! You need not worry, Kirisaki Homura! It is a matter of little concern, for you can rely on this Saver to be your shield, to guide you through this war. No, I insist that you do!”

Through the howling winds she loudly declares something something so crazy that simply reaffirms my belief, this island must have affected me so radically that I'm now both seeing and hearing the most ridiculous things. I'm pretty sure Saver wasn't a real name if nothing else and there's no way she couldn't feel the cold if she was something more than my imagination playing tricks on me. My parents took the best time for a business trip didn't they? In a few moments I'll be awake in bed...or fro-

“I would explain further about your new situation, but this is not the place to talk. Simply know that you can trust me. If you have some residence or hospital nearby, I would ask that you tell me where it is immediately.”

This goth loli picks me up as if I was nothing, easily carrying me like the groom does in the weddings.

"Ah, thank you, yeah it's right over that way. The big Japanese h-"

...

"WHAT THE HEEEEEEELL?!"

I shout out even though the frigid wind dampens the sound of my voice, my own body too frigid to even rest this what was happening. Just what is happening here? Am I really being carried around like this?! This cold is nothing to the new threat, something so unexpected, so underhanded, was this truly something I would imagine for myself?! My worth as a man is in danger here! Shouldn't I be the one carrying her if anything?! I gotta get outta this!

...

Nope, no good.

I think I've lost feeling in my limbs now. That or she's super strong.

Please let me wake up soon or let this imaginary(?) self just die, I think I've hit a new low.