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ziracona · 3 years ago

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[Very excited for the next bit & hopefully life quits kicking my butt soon so I can get it done. Anyway, an update.]

The Kid (pt: 1, … 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, ?) [Fate Grand Order AU]

Adrenaline pumping so fast I think I might puke, my hand is already up and I’m halfway to shouting Billy’s name to summon him when the door opens again.

I stop, unused command seal on my lips, and stare as it shuts again and locks, then opens quick. It. OH.

I feel my face on fire as it clicks. I am so glad no one was here to see this. It must automatically lock—must have been locking every time it shut. The pattern is just repeating again, and I couldn’t see the lock from the other side.

Okay. Okay… I make myself take a long, deep breath. You’re okay.

It’s…funny. I wasn’t scared at all until I was alone, and now I’m…completely freaked, I think. …Maybe I was scared before, too, but not like this. It’s okay. You can call for help if you need it. You know they’re all depending on you, so you have to do a good job. You can do this, Ritsuka. Come on1

Right. So. I’m okay. Whoever opened the door is not trying to lock me in, as far as I know anyway. Why did they call me?

Remembering I haven’t, I turn and look at the room behind me. It’s lit, but only dimly. It…kind of looks like a hospital room? But. An old one, and not a very nice one. Like they do in movies from earlier times. There’s almost…a replica of a room? Built into the middle of this one. It’s…like in Mission Impossible movies, when they finish tricking someone and pull down the walls and it wasn’t really a hotel room at all. There’s two windows, and I can’t exactly see what’s in the room from where I am, but I can tell that whoever is in there is seeing little medical set pieces left outside them. This is weird.

It's…way more elaborate than any of the others have been. That seems really strange. Are they actually trying to trick whoever is in there?

I can’t think of another reason to do this.

And there is someone in there, right? There’s gotta be. Or, why would I be getting a call for help? So, a heroic spirit, in a really weird death trap? One that is tricking them into thinking they’re somewhere else. That’s…meaner, somehow, I think. I feel a pang in my chest at the guesses I’m making in my head. I hate this—I hate all of this. I just can’t understand why they’re doing it at all. It’s all been bad since that moment I first saw Billy from across a room, but I really can’t get the way the Lancer looked out of my head. I keep wondering how it would feel to be alive and see your guts hanging out on the ground, and I hate that thought—it makes me sick imagining it, but I can’t stop. And he did—he lived that for real! Minutes ago. Minutes ago, he was hanging there with his guts on the ground and a pole through his stomach. He felt all of that, all of it. For he said two and a half days. I…I can’t even…begin to imagine…

And. ...The other thing is, I also keep thinking that none of the spirits liked it, when they saw him like that, but, none of them seemed really…surprised. I wonder. …I wonder if that means this isn’t so different from other things that happen to them. I. I really hope it is—I hope this is nothing like what normally happens, and I’m just making a big deal of nothing in my head. I hope the worst of it is being bossed around and made to fight, because that’s bad enough. But.

I…might not be experienced, but. I’m not stupid. And…I know it’s more than that…

I know it’s worse…

Okay. Come on. Time for this later. Get moving! It’s about them and you want to help them, so let’s go—let’s help! You got this.

Shaking myself internally, I give the stuff around me a quick glance. First thing, better let the person opening the door know they can stop—that’ll eventually draw attention. Whoever it is can’t see me, in Robin’s cloak, and I’m a little afraid to take it off, so…

Settling on a nearby medical cabinet prop, I walk over and open one of the drawers a few times. It works. Whoever it is might not see me, but they can sure see the ghost cabinet, and they take the hint. The door closes and stays shut, which…is unsettling, but. I pretty much just asked for them to do that, so. It’s probably okay. And if anything seems off, I can call for backup. Whoever is out there asked for my help, though, so I’m gonna believe that was sincere until I have proof otherwise, and I’m gonna try.

Turning, I go slowly towards the little mock room ahead, and hesitate at the door. It doesn’t have a window, but it has an old-fashioned keyhole, so I stoop and peer inside. It’s not a good angle, but I can make out a hospital bed in there, with a body on it. I think their eyes are open, but they’re perfectly still. There’s something unsettling about the sight, even after everything I’ve seen today. And there’s…something else. A weird…heaviness, to the room. Some kind of mana, I think, but I don’t know enough about magic to tell what it is. I do know enough to be able to tell whatever it is, isn’t good.

I consider my options. I can still hear fighting faintly above me, so I shouldn’t call for help unless I need it—I might mess them up. I could wait, but now that they know we’re here, they might start killing the spirits they have. So…I should go ahead and go in alone. It’s not like I haven’t done that before. And…it should be fine. If I explain who I am, I think I’ll be safe, and if anything starts to go wrong, I’ll call for help.

My heart’s thudding in my chest so much I feel like throwing up, but I clench my fist and bring it in tight against my chest, then reach my hands up and pull off the hood of Robin’s cloak. I’m not totally sure how it works, and if it’s the action, or the fact I want to stop being invisible, but I see myself again as I do it. No going back I guess. If I’m on camera, I’m on camera. I pause to take a deep breath, and turn the knob.

It isn’t locked.

The door swings open, and before me, I can clearly make out now what looks like a pretty convincing old-fashioned hospital room. Not…in a good way. There are bars over the windows, and straps on the bed, for holding patients down, and here’s a man on the bed, held in place by them.

It…it feels so unnecessary. He looks ill, like he probably would have trouble getting up off the bed no matter what, and a little old. White hair, but a face not as old as I expect with it. I have a hard time telling how old adult people are when they’re between 40 and 70, and he seems not at the older end of that spectrum, but at first glance I thought for a moment he was older. His face is haggard, worn out like he’s on the verge of death. Huge bags under his eyes, gaunt features, and his eyes themselves are milky and vacant. There’s…something really wrong with him. He’s got a bandage on his head too, and one around his throat, both blead-through a little. What…happened to you?

He doesn’t seem to see me at first. Just keeps staring blankly towards one of the fake windows, then slowly turns his head and his empty eyes towards me.

Something changes. The haze drops, if just a little, and I can see life deep beneath the clouds in his eyes.

“A child?” he asks me. His voice is damaged, from whatever happened to his throat, and he sounds weak, but the thing that stands out isn’t that, it’s how his voice itself sounds. There’s an air I’ve only ever heard from teachers, the good ones—a kind of sophisticated and educated and understanding way of talking that makes them sound smart and kind and good to be around all at the same time. “What are you doing here?”

He tries to smile at me. He looks so weak, it’s pitiful.

“…” I can’t find my voice. I swallow, take a step closer, and try again. “I’m. Ritsuka, Fujimaru—I came here to try to help.”

“Help?” he echoes, confused. There’s…so much pain in his voice too. Like being sad is a part of who he is.

“To—get you out of here,” I manage, taking another step.

His brows knit in weak confusion. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m here to help everyone trapped in here anyway,” I answer.

He smiles a little, sadly, and shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing taking immense effort. “That’s very kind of you. It’s not the most comforting place to end a life.” He speaks and his voice has that same tone, gentle, and overflowing with pain. “But I don’t think there’s a lot more you can do for any of us. Than come to visit.” He opens his eyes again and turns his head weakly to look at me. “Which is always nice. It can get lonely in a place like this.”

I don’t. Understand? He.

“You want to get out, right?” I ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he answers simply, shutting his eyes again, voice and breaths raspy, “But it’s not that simple. I have to be here now, and it won’t be much longer.” He smiles to himself again. “You’re kind to worry for us.”

He sounds like he really means that. I’m so confused—unless—?

Thoughts racing, I take in the room again, the attention to detail. I try hard to focus on the heaviness in the room; I’ve never been good at sensing magic, but I give it everything I’ve got, and I can tell something is not just in the room, it’s on him. A curse? A spell? Maybe…If I can find it, I can…

Taking a step to try and see him up close, he hears me moving and opens his eyes and turns to look. Seeing me, he looks surprised.

“Hello there, little one. What are you doing in a place like this?”

I stop and stare.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“We…just talked—do you not remember me?” I ask. My voice sounds so small it surprises me. I see his face fall. He looks…some kind of very deep sad, like that question cut to his core.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes moving to look at something that isn’t me, “My memory isn’t what it was.” He tries to smile at me and looks back again. “What brings someone like you to a place like this?”

“I came…to help you,” I reply meekly. There’s no recognition in his eyes. Just mild surprise again.

What did they. …Why did they...

“Sir,” I say, taking another step, “Do you know that you’re a heroic spirit?”

I think he almost laughs, and I can see in his face he has no idea not only what he is, but what a heroic spirit is at all. “I appreciate the compliment, but there’s really nothing heroic about me,” he says like he’s found my question very sweet.

Oh boy. What do I do? I don’t know complex magic. I can’t…I can’t fix this on my own, unless, if I can get him to contract, I could with a command spell, but. If he doesn’t even know what heroic spirits are, he’ll never agree! He won’t even be able to. And, if I try to explain, and he thinks what I’m doing is super weird, he might freak out, and- …Okay, okay, come on, think. Stay cool.

“What happened?” I ask, indicating his injuries as I move closer. I’m almost at the bedside now, and there’s a little metal chair there. I move it beside him and sit down, like I really am someone who came to visit a hospital room.

No. Not hospital. Asylum.

His face loses the little color it had.

“I’m sorry—I—maybe that’s too personal,” I say quickly, feeling very bad, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He gives me a kindly smile. “Fell,” he answers, and he tries to indicate I think the head wound, but can’t because he’s strapped down, and I see surprise and then pain and shame with it register on his face as he looks down at himself. You forgot. That too…

“What’s your name?” I ask, hoping to distract him.

It sort of works. He glances back at me, surprised again. “You don’t know me? Are you just visiting everyone here today?”

“Yes,” I answer, because in a way that’s true.

He smiles. There’s barely anything but skin and bones on his face. He looks so ill I believe what he said earlier, about how it wouldn’t be much longer. “That’s kind of you,” he says again, “I’m sure it will cheer all of us up. It can get a little boring around here, the days long.”

The thought of how true that must be is agonizing. It makes me want to cry. Whoever he was, this must have been how he died, a long time ago. Alone, hurt, and with a broken memory, in an asylum. I can’t think of many lonelier ways to go.

“My name is Antonio,” he says. He must have been some kind of teacher, the way he sounds proud and welcoming at once saying his own name.

“I’m Ritsuka,” I introduce myself again, “Fujimaru.”

“Ritsuka,” he echoes, curious, “Where are you from?”

“Japan,” I answer.

“Your Italian is perfect—even the accent,” he says.

“We aren’t speaking Italian,” I say before I can think not to.

Something cracks in his face. He winces, almost like a full-body tick. His eyes get vacant, and then very, very alive for just a moment, and there’s horror in them.

“I,” he says, faltering. Listening. “Sto…parlando Italiano…No.”

Crap. Crap crap crap.

He looks at me, terrified. Right on the edge of understanding something, and unable to make it.

“What am I?” he begs me in his broken voice. It’s not what I thought he’d say, and I am completely lost in how to answer him. “Who?” He tries to move his hands again, and can’t and in despair tries to rip them free. Failing again, he turns back to me, desperate. “Please!”

“It’s okay—it’s okay--I’m here to help you!” I promise. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me like I’m doing this and he’s begging me to stop. I would never. “I know this is confusing—I don’t know what they did to you, but they messed with your head.”

“My?” He tries to move a hand again, already having forgotten, and looks down in despair at the restraints, then me.

“Here,” I say quickly, and I unthread the ones around his wrists, then chest. Still unbelievably weak, he raises a shaking hand to his head and feels it, wincing, then brings it down to his neck and leaves it there.

Staring into space, confused and horrified, and out of it.

“Antonio?” I try.

He glances at me again, distracted, but more awake than he was.

“I can help you, but I need you to trust me to do it.” I look at my hand, then hold it out to him, palm-up. “You’re still you, whoever you were before. You’re still Antonio. But it’s later than you think, and you’re a little different too. I can explain, but I think if you trust me, I can fix what they did to you, and you’ll be able to remember on your own. That way will make a lot more sense.”

“Trust you,” he echoes, and I see the fog starting to settle back over his eyes, his previously terrified posture starting to go slack.

“No-no-no-no, hey!” I say, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder.

That does something, and he blinks and looks at my hand. I’m so afraid he’s going to ask me who I am again, but instead he says, “What?” in a kind of out of it voice.

Crap crap I’m gonna lose him.

“Listen to me. I’m speaking Japanese right now, and so are you. This place?” I say, letting go and hopping up, idea formed, “It’s not real—You’re not where you think!” I run at the nearest wall and slam into it, and it topples back like the set piece it is, and he watches in horror and jerks when it thuds against the floor, then stares at the room past it in alarm. “You’re being kept here against your will, and the people who did this are messing with your head! I can help you—I came here to help, but you have to trust me.”

Face ashy, he focuses back on me.

“If you form a pact with me, I can help you,” I say more calmly, going to sit back down.

“I don’t-“ he starts, and then he winces again, that full-body kind of jerk, like something has cracked inside him, and when he looks at me again, the fog has receded a little. “I’m…you said, ‘heroic spirit.’ I’m…dead. …I’m…I’m not…Antoino… I am…I’m…I…”

I’m losing him again and he’s staring at the wall. I reach over and put my hands on his and that snaps him out and he looks at me again. “You are. You’re Antonio. You’re Antonio…?”

“Salieri,” he says almost vacantly, but his eyes are still alive, and holding mine. I can see him deep in there past whatever Ur-shanabi’s done to him, fighting.

“You’re Antonio Salieri,” I echo, “And you’re a heroic spirit. If you form a contract with me, I can help you. I’ll try to anyway, if you don’t want to, but I’m not very good at magic. I’ll do my best, but I swear, if you are willing to form a contract, I won’t do anything to hurt you—I’m only here to try—”

There’s a loud sound between a thud and a hum, and we both look up towards the source of it. Something in the ceiling?

Huh.

I was so used to the sound of it, I hadn’t even realized the bedframe itself was making a low-pitched humming as well, but it shuts off and I am immediately aware of the absence of it. We both look in unison again, down at the bedframe, and I see Antonio’s brow furrow in confusion, and then he holds up a hand, and I realize it’s not completely opaque.

It's already not completely opaque.

No. No!

“They pulled the plug!” I say desperately, and he turns his head to look at me again. Whatever they did to make him like this, it must not have been connected to his power source, because he’s just as out of it as before. This is all wrong and he’ll be dead in a few seconds, as fast as he’s starting to vanish! I have to—“Please—hurry—if you vanish they’ll summon you back! I can ground-“

His expression changes entirely.

In an instant, the fog is gone and the welcoming calmness and kindness is gone and his expression is hard and volatile.

I was wrong—whatever curse was on him was connected to his power source, because it is gone now, and it’s like he’s not even the same person he was a moment before. He looks into my face and I’m scared of him. No, I think…I think I’m terrified of this person. He looks like death—he looks like hate—looks like them in a way I had no idea person could look. Like they’re not what he’s feeling, they’re what he is. Meeting his gaze makes me scared he’s going to snap me between his fingers, and not even for any personal reason, just because it’s his nature. But then I’m past that in his eyes, and behind it is the same thing I saw before. The same person, deep beneath it. Kind and intelligent and composed. Like he’s wearing a terrifying Halloween costume over who he really is.

And I’m okay.

I think he sees that, sees all of it, and he looks…hurt and touched and a little surprised, all at the same time. He glances down at me, and then holds out a transparent hand, palm-up.

“I am not much of a servant,” he warns me, and he sounds harder than before, colder, and sharp, but the teacher tone is still there. The one that says ‘I will show you how to do it right even if it takes a long time, don’t worry. Come take a seat,’ all patient, and kind, and knowledgeable. Layered beneath the new tone, the same way the look in his eyes was. “I’ll warn you ahead of time that I’m dangerous to be around, and I haven’t much power to offer you, but if you still want a contract with a servant like me, I will accept your offer.”

“Of course I do,” I say without hesitation, and I take his hand, “But I don’t want a servant. I want a partner.”

He tilts his head like this is unexpected, but somehow his face doesn’t look too surprised, and he closes his vanishing fingertips around mine.

“My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and accept my call, then bind to me-“ I realize I have no idea what his class is and look to him.

“Avenger,” he says in that broken, sad voice, but he has a weak smile on his face.

‘Avenger’? “-Avenger,” I finish.

“I accept,” he replies, and I feel a tug on my chest and flood of mana, and I thought I’d be fine because I’m getting used to this, but I forgot I’m kind of beat right now, and I think I pass out—only for a second, but I’m upright, and then I’m face-first on the bed, no idea how I got there, the Avenger gently helping me back up.

I feel awful, but he’s solid again, mostly, and looking better. I mentally check to make sure everyone I have a contract with is still alive, and I feel all the connections going strong.

“Great,” I say weakly, grinning at him, “We did it.”

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Mmm…hh..” I slump forward and pass out.

#fate go fic #fate go #fate grand order fic #fate grand order au #fate go au #fgo #fate grand order #Ritsuka Fujimaru #Antonio Salieri #the kid #the kid (fic)

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ziracona · 3 years ago

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[FGO AU -- The Kid (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ?)

“…Still nothing?” Her hands are perfectly still, muscles tensed and brow furrowed with all the concentration I ever seen on any mage, but, I think she can tell the answer before I give her a sympathetic smile. “AUGH,” she exclaims, flinging herself back unhappily into her seat, “Why! I’m trying my hardest! I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong!”

The mage folds over like a camp chair and deflates with unhappy sounds, sliding back against her own seat.

“Hey, come on now,” I try reassuringly, “It’s not so bad. I don’t know any magic at all, but pretty much all skills take more than an hour to come together.”

She lets out another long sigh and blows some hair out of her face, then straightens up a little. “Yeah, I know,” she admits, “But it’s not like I only tried today. Actually, I’ve…been trying to practice it like all week. So I’d be ready…”

Whoa.

I…guess I shouldn’t be surprised—I keep underestimating her, and her level of plannin’. She strikes me as impulsive, and she is—to the core—but, she’s smart too, and reasonable. Knows how it works, and thinks, just, goes for the long shots anyway. It’s a combination of traits I both like and can relate to.

“Still,” I offer, “You ain’t got a teacher, ‘n mage stuff’s complicated to learn.” She still looks incredibly down, but she nods as she stares vacantly through the bed past me. “…’Sides,” I add, “That medicine you gave me’s helpin’ a lot already—I’m feelin quite a bit better. And you don’t need to worry about havin’ to heal me, sooner or later. I’m getting’ a steady supply of mana from you, even if it’s slow, so my spirit core’s rebuildin’. It’s just gonna take it a little time. It won’t be like a real—human—bullet wound would be to heal.”

“Really?” she asks, perking up immediately.

“…Yeah.” I’m kinda surprised she didn’t know that. Girl seems to have a roulette-wheel of a library about my kind in her head. “At this pace, I should be back on my feet by mornin’.” Crap, it is morning. I forgot. I give the blinds a glance. “Or, --I mean a few hours.”

“That fast?” she asks, eyes widening.

I shrug, which hurts. Ow. Why…do I keep doing that? OW. DAMN it, Bill. When I’m not moving, I forget how much the entire left side of my chest is in agony when I do. “Not back to normal, but, on my feet,” I manage with my teeth clenched, trying not to let on how much that hurt.

She nods, thinking that over. “Can I do anything to help speed it up?”

I still can’t get used to that.

Kid’s so….fervent, and sincere. And nice to me. I’ve been awake for maybe an hour with her now, and I’m still not remotely used to it.

I refocus quick, and give her a smile. “Not more than you already have.”

“I could get you more food,” she suggests eagerly.

That’s probably true, actually, and I could use it. Just. “…Well, if you got some,” I stutter out. I am not used to feeling flustered, but I am realizing quick I am even less used to people bein nice to me. The odd heroic spirit maybe, but humans? Feels totally off now. Like I’ve snuck in somewhere I’m not supposed to be.

Happy, the kid snags her tray, but before she can leave I say, “—Actually though, uh, --before you go—I’m realizin spectacularly late here you still haven’t told me your name.”

She freezes with her hand on the tray and her face turns red. “CRAP, YOU’RE RIGHT!” the mage whips around to face me and gives a distressed bow. “I’m so sorry—I can’t believe—”

“—I-It’s fine, really,” I assure her, “Just you got me at a little bit of a disadvantage right now-”

“—Right! I-I’m sorry. I totally forgot! I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru,” she says, offering me a hand. It takes me a second to get she wants me to shake it, and I awkwardly do.

“Ritsuka Fujimaru,” I echo, “Well, you already know my name, but seein’ as I got several to pick from, Billy’s good. –Oh, uhm—you got a name you prefer me to call you?”

“Uh.” She gives me a glazed stare like someone looking at an oncoming train. “My…friends in high school called me ‘Gudako’ sometimes.”

I stare right back and forget to take back my hand from our handshake. Damn!! “…Your friends weren’t too nice, huh?” I offer sympathetically.

Her face turns crimson and she gives me a look saying she was praying and expecting that I wouldn’t know what that meant and is crying on the inside that I do, and I feel real bad for her that we spirits get such decent language translation built into us on summon. “No,” she offers in a tiny, beaten voice, staring past me.

It’s real hard not to grin, but I beat the impulse down internally with a shovel and give a sympathetic smile instead. “Well, I really just meant ‘do you prefer ‘Ritsuka’ or ‘Fujimaru’,’” She turns a deeper shade and I see her wish for death a little. “But if it’s any consolation, I would definitely not describe you as boring.”

The kid finally looks me in the eye again, a bit like a kicked dog, but she smiles back after a second and seems to bounce back with it. We both remember we’re still holding hands then and let go.

“Well, thank you,” she says like she means that, “I guess I’m not this week anyway.”

“Hardly,” I agree with a smile.

She returns it and takes the tray and goes back into the kitchenette I gotta assume is back there somewhere, and I get another second to think alone.

I’m doin’ better—a lot, I think. So far I think I’ve been up something close to an hour. All this is very strange to me, and it’s not been a great couple of months, but I’m feelin’ less and less dead by the minute, and the answer to ‘does pain medication work on Heroic Spirits’ seems to be a solid ‘yes’—which—considerin alcohol still does and I knew that, in retrospect shouldn’t be such a surprise to me. A glad one though, for sure. Still.

What now? That’s the real question.

Kid says she just wants to help, and at this point I mostly believe that. There’s usually a catch somewhere down the line, but maybe not. I do think at the least she thinks she means it right now. …And…and. I wish that was all I had to worry about. But, the less pain I feel, the clearer I’m starting to think, and either way, she’s right; I can’t just go back to the throne, or I’ll get resummoned. I’m stuck here like this, tied to her right now. But I can’t stay here indefinitely, and neither can she—actually, come to think of it, if they got any kind of security at that workshop, she might be in danger now, for breaking me out. Mages are…known for their ruthlessness. There could be people already on the way to deal with her. Okay. Better find that out, and fast.

Then, third and last on the list of things for me to figure out and deal with is those mages themselves. And that’s the big one. I’m not the only one of us that’s gonna happen to, if it ain’t already happened to more of us, and I can’t leave the place like that. If they have more spirits already, I need to break them out. And either way, I need to destroy that research and probably the people in charge, so they don’t just rebuild, or they absolutely will. And fast. Not sure this new master is just gonna let me go on a wild murder tear either, though, no matter my motives. Which is a problem…

She’s back then, though, so I’m out of time to focus.

“More okayu, plus some chocolate, if you’re feeling good enough,” she offers hopefully, setting her tray back down, “and I brought you some tea too.”

See that’s the problem, I think mournfully at the sight, I can’t do nothin’, but I can’t just betray her after this either, even if I got a good reason! No one’s ever been this good to me—I can’t just go lie to her and then pull a bunch of bloodshed on her dime—even if she don’t sign off on it, she’ll find out, and she’ll feel responsible, and she’s a kid, I’ll have done that to her! I don’t wanna give some kid who saved me a bunch of guilt trauma! After all this? …Hell. I… But I can’t do nothin’ –I can’t. I got friends in the Throne, and even if I didn’t, I ain’t about to allow that to keep on goin’. We don’t deserve that; it ain’t right. But if I tell her what I got in mind, she might use a command spell and bind me, so. …But still. I can’t… I can’t…do either, but. …Maybe I could convince her to absolve the contract, and get it done after that and before I vanish, just, once I got more strength? I got my Independent Action that could keep me goin’ for a little—even Gunner, I got a lot of my Archer traits, so, once I’m healed, it might be enough to get- …No. Ain’t enough. She’d still see what happened, and know the only reason I got it done was her. Same problem as before. Shit. Shit, this sucks… I’ll be doing somethin terrible no matter what, then…

And I know myself. And that the thing I’m eventually gonna do is not leave that place standin’ with people like me trapped dyin’ inside it. As much regret and guilt as that’s gonna buy me too…

“What?”

I glance up, and she’s got her head cocked. I gotta stop bein’ an open book here. Let me think…

“About Ur-shanabi,” I start hesitantly, “Master, did—”

Her expression changes drastically to distress and she immediately cuts me off. “—Oh, please don’t call me that.”

I forgot I even said it, so it takes me a second to get what she means. “’Master’?”

“Please?” she says again, “I know you’re supposed to, and I’m supposed to call you my servant, but I really hate that.”

Everything else I’ve been thinkin’ about just kinda shuts off and I stare at her, blink. … Y…yeah, me too. Always…

“You’re all heroes, or famous artists, or explorers, or fighters, and we’re just mages. –I mean, even if it was different, I’m pretty sure I’d still hate it,” she continues with a sigh, somewhere deep in thought in her own head, but she comes back and meets my gaze, “But please don’t. I don’t want you to have to think of me that way either. I guess I don’t know how this all usually works in a lot of detail, and I know you’re stuck bound to me right now, but I don’t want you to worry I’m gonna try to make you obey me. I won’t! That’s not why I helped you!” She looks so intense. Leaned forward, one palm on the bed, look on her face that makes me believe she means it. “I want you to know I’m never gonna do that; I mean it. I won’t ever use a command spell on you to make you do something you don’t want to do, I promise.”

Her eyes are amber and bright like coals and full of intent. I find it impossible to look away.

“Not ever. I don’t want to try to use you or control you; I. …I’m…really just trying to help…” She finishes, pulling back once she’s made her statement and looking just a little embarrassed only now it’s done.

“…Well, good,” I finally find my voice, “Because I’ve never been much for the Master-Servant thing anyway. Can’t ever seem to stick to it, and it tends to cause problems down the road.”

She smiles back, happy with my answer and that I’ve accepted her proposal.

Some kind of a mage... This is…almost too much to really even understand right now, but I think she…meant it. She thinks she did. I’m beginin to think calling her a mage at all was plain off. She’s somethin’ else. I always think the kid’s thrown me for about as many loops as she can, and then I get knocked down again, and it’s been less than a day. Don’t bode well and really does for me at the same time.

“’Boss’ then?” I suggest, but I can instantly sense her dislike.

“’Partner?’” she counters hopefully.

That does have a much better ring to it, I gotta say. “Partner,” I concede with a wink, “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Never had a master that wanted me to un-know my place before.

“Well, you could also call me ‘Ritsuka’,” she says hopefully and then immediately becomes embarrassed. “Uhm,” she hurries, glancing away when I grin at her, “A-And you’re sure you prefer ‘Billy’? Not Henry?”

Lord it’s been a while since anyone called me that. Sends me a long, long way back. And not really in a good way. I appreciate the thought though.

“No,” I reply.

She seems surprised a little, but I can tell she’s not gonna press me, so, there’s really no reason to say this, but for some reason I want to tell her.

“That’s my middle name, actually,” I say.

“Huh?” says the girl.

“Henry,” I clarify, “Middle name. It’s William Henry McCarty, actually.”

Her brow furrows. “…But I thought…?”

“Step-dad had the same name, and it was too many for one household, so mine got shortened,” I gloss over, “Took it back when I picked my own name on the lamb.”

“So. …You outlaw-named yourself … ‘Your Name The Hot One’?”

It’s my turn to suffer nickname shame, though I’m not too ashamed of that, because it’s pretty funny. Does suckerpunch me a little to get called on it more than 100 years later.

“…I-I don’t know…” I answer automatically before thinking of what to say, “Maybe. …yeah.”

She almost chokes on a laugh. I grin.

“I mean, if you got the opportunity—wouldn’t you? I’m just sayin,” I say casually, past the slight amount of embarrassment I felt and pretty proud of myself again. It was a slick name.

“It’s got flair,” she says approvingly.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“So, what were you gonna ask—before I interrupted you?” she asks, picking up the cup of tea and offering it to me. I take it, feeling immense guilt as our hands touch for a second and I’m stuck thinkin about all the things she’s done for me for no reason other than bein’ kind, and the fact I’m definitely going to turn on that and her, and how awful that is.

I…wonder if it would make things some kind of right if I came back and let her kill me after? No. No, that’d make it worse. Mage or not, I don’t think this kid’s ever hurt anyone. I don’t know what I can do to soften taking this kind of kindness and drawing blood with it, but…

“Ur-shanabi,” I say quietly, working hard to pass off my internal distress as distraction as I hold the little clay cup and feel the warmth. It smells good. I know I have to drink it, and I’ll feel physically better, but everything nice I accept is piling on guilt.

…I wish. I wish I had a choice here, but I can’t let them keep this goin’. I wish I knew a way to make that right, or at least explain to you I’m sorry. And everything she says and does just makes this worse! I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t. In any other situation, I wouldn’t, but I have to, and I hate it. I don’t want to betray her. I don’t want to make her regret showing me kindness. I don’t want her to feel the way it feels to not do something cold but safe, and then get shot for it.

Hot water slips over the top of my hand and I jerk back and just spill more of the tea, sucking in a sharp breath at the unexpected pain.

“Whoa! –Are you okay?” she asks worriedly, passing me a napkin and leaning over to catch onto my hand and help steady the cup and what’s left inside it, “What happened? Are you feeling worse again?”

Hell! My hands are shaking and I can’t quite get them to stop. Calm down. You don’t gotta do anything right now. You can feel bad later. Just think a second.

“Nah—s-sorry,” I manage, trying to smile at her and not quite sure how well I do, “I uh—I guess I’m just still a little weaker than I thought. I’m fine now.”

“Here,” she says, brow all scrunched up in concern, taking back the tea and passing me the ice pack to set on my hand.

I hate this. I’m terrible. It ain’t fair—it ain’t wrong for me to go back, I gotta, but. I hate this. I hate it.

I take the pack and try to look grateful. “Thanks.”

“Sorry about your hand,” she says.

I wave it off. “It’s already done hurting.”

“…” She waits a second, leaned a little forward expectantly, and I forget what for until she prompts me again. “What? About Ur-shanabi?”

“Oh,” I say. Right. “I was gonna ask how much you know about their operation. –How you even ended up in the right place at all.”

“Oh,” she says, and she loses some color.

Huh?

“Uhm,” she glances away, then back, and seems more herself, but I’m not sure I buy it this time. I don’t think she’s lyin’, per-se, but there’s something else she’s not saying. “Well. I’m from a mage family, but, not a ‘mage’ family—we know about magic, I did—growing up. But, I didn’t ever get any formal training, or anything. So I guess it was more like mage-adjacent in a lot of ways. There was this test I heard about from a friend—a research project on magical circuits, and I was curious.” She glances down at her legs again, but this time she looks far away and almost happy, like she’s revisiting a better moment in her head. “I’d always been curious about myself and magic, and I was excited, because if you participated in the research project, you got to know stuff they found out about your magical circuits—stuff you might be good at.” She glances up at me and gives me an embarrassed smile. “It sounded really cool. I had wanted to know for so long, and I thought—I still think—it would be really great to learn how to do more magic. So, I went.”

The girl—nope—Ritsuka, thinks for a second, then holds out her hand and looks at it. “Apparently I’ve got really unusual circuits.”

“Unusual?” I echo, kind of intrigued. I know jack-all about magic, but I am curious.

She glances over and nods. “Yeah. I thought I did really badly in the study, because I didn’t know any real spells at all, and everyone else did. They pulled me aside after and I thought they were just going to kick me out before we even got results, but, apparently my circuits were so unusual they wanted to do a case study. I’ve got ‘Almost no practical control or ability to utilize them, but possess a nearly inhuman amount of mana.’”

“Really?” I ask. I can’t feel that at all. I’m getting enough to keep me sustained, sure, but that’s it.

“I know, right?” she agrees, nodding and leaning forward, “That’s what I said! But apparently I do. They asked me if I’d come in to do more studies, and I said yes, because I was also curious. And that was Ur-shanabi. I’ve been going there for a while now,” she adds, then stops, gives me a guilty look, then looks away and keeps going in an almost dejected tone. “Uh. But I worked, or, was allowed in, I guess, a totally different part of the building. You were up on the 12th floor. I was on the 4th, R&D testing labs.”

“Oh,” I say, very confused by this reaction from her, and a little concerned by it too if I’m honest, “What brought you up to the 12th?”

“The mage I met with the most was named Nakata. He worked in a lot of projects more important than mine too. I think that was maybe the only time I was ever on the 12th floor,” she answers, “That day, I showed up and waited for a couple hours, and he never showed up in R&D. There were other people who wanted to use the room we usually used for another test, so I asked if I should go home, and the secretary said yes, but I bumped into Dr. Nakata in the elevator on my way out. He said he’d been swamped by a last-minute schedule change, and still wanted to do our test, but he’d be maybe another hour, and that I should just wait for him by his office. Which, is on the 12th floor. I was just standing there, and this big group of mages went into a large room at the end of the hall, so I was curious and watched them, and.” She shrugs.

Yeah, I can fill in the rest.

“I guess you don’t know a lot about what they were doing with me, then,” I say, a little disappointed. Any new information would have been useful. I don’t know that I expected another answer, though.

“…Actually, yes,” says Ritsuka, looking uncomfortable. I glance at her in surprise and she looks flustered and guilty and glances away again. “Uhm. After I saw you, I asked Dr. Nakata what was going on up here, and who you were.”

You coulda been killed, I think in a frozen kind of horror. What were you thinking?

“He told me,” she says simply, “You were a heroic spirit, and they were doing tests on things you could do using them. He even told me what the test was.”

I don’t know what to think or how to feel about that, so I just listen. I wonder why on earth he’d tell her?

She glances up and holds my gaze this time, an undercurrent of almost…incensed feeling somewhere deep in her eyes. “He said they had found a way to keep a summoned spirit away from the throne for a long time at low mana cost, and instead use the connection to their Saint Graph and essence as a fixed unit outside of time now, to generate a potentially limitless source of energy. To…make a heroic spirit into a battery.” I can tell while the rest of it was her echoing, the last statement is her own, and she’s bitter. “I asked how, and he told me,” she continues, “He said you had to trap one right between life and death, so they would give as little presence as possible to anything looking, and wouldn’t find a way to escape or retaliate on their own, but couldn’t actually vanish either. ‘An art and a science, to find the perfect thread to stop at, and keep them in place on the edge of death.’ Stuck. In pain, and too weak to fight back, but here.”

She lets out a long sigh and glances at me and says, “I said that sounded awful, and what about the spirits, and he told me a lot of stuff about heroic spirits being familiars that are meant to serve mankind in whatever way they’re summoned for, no matter how painful, and aren’t people anymore and that’s their intended use.”

Ow. I mean, it’s not new; I hear this from mages all the time, but it’s never fun to hear one say it right to your face. Fuckin mages…

“But, I think he could tell I didn’t like it, even though I was a little scared by then and trying not to seem as much like it,” she continues, glancing down at her hands, “And he told me ‘Don’t trouble yourself. You’re new to this, but it’s a normal part of being a mage. If it helps you rest easier, the one we summoned was Billy the Kid, an outlaw and a murderer from the old American west,’ a-and. That…” her voice gets quieter, like suddenly she thinks maybe she shouldn’t have said any of this, “…I could think of it as divine punishment, in a way. And not have to feel bad.”

…

That. It really shouldn’t bother me to hear. People always act like that to me. Even when I was alive. I think about being sent to hang for a murder I didn’t commit for a moment. I had so many murders on my record by the end of it, but I’ve never pulled a trigger that wasn’t in self-defense or a last resort. But it’s never mattered. You are what people make of you, in the public eye, and in history I guess, no matter what the truth is. And eventually that tends to push you to an ending written about the person you’re described as. I never thought of any of the fights I was in as murder. I guess it’s been a long time since I could even pretend that mattered to anyone but me, though.

…I still hate it.

It hurts. Not so much people sayin’ that—don’t care too much what people think; I know who I am. But, the fact that it just straight up don’t matter what’s true, at all. Even a little… I could have lived a completely different life and not been remembered as any worse at all.

“He thought I’d agree with that.” Her voice is angry. I glance back up, train of thought broken, and Ritsuka looks as mad as she sounded, somewhere else in her head too. It’s a quiet, deep anger. “I didn’t.”

There’s something about how she looks, like she’s an embodiment of what she’s saying, and again it becomes hard to look away if I’d wanted.

“He was wrong. I guess there are some people who deserve to die,” she continues, “I’ve thought about that. About if I think if…if someone killed my family or something, I’d want them to have to die too for it. If I think that’s fair, and right. But. …Even if some people probably deserve to die, nobody deserves to be just kept in pain forever. Even the worst people. I don’t know how anyone could think after more than a day anybody at all could possibly know it’s right to go on hurting someone. Not even the worst person.” She looks distressed by that for a moment, then glances back at me and smiles a little. “I decided that, and that I was going to try to do something, and then I went home and looked you up, and you didn’t even sound that bad.” Her eyes go big immediately and she looks mortified. “—Wait—That sounded bad! I’m sorry! I-I said that wrong. I—I meant—I didn’t—I just mean—he’d said—uh—a-and you didn’t sound like—it seemed like you weren’t so—like stuff went wrong for you more than you were a bad person actually, a-and you didn’t seem like you were really a murderer—"

The poor kid is sweating buckets now. I think she thinks she’ll have offended me sayin’ that, but it’s very much the opposite.

“—I should stop talking. I’m sorry. I-I just—uhm. You were different sounding than I thought before I looked you up is the only thing I was trying to say—I’m so sorry I don’t know why I said any of it at all!” She gives up and hunches over apologetically in shame.

“…I ain’t mad,” I try to assure her after a second.

Ritsuka glances up between her bangs and gives me a sorrowful, worried look.

“…I…think I actually appreciate that,” I continue after a second, figuring it out as I go and then giving her a smile, “I ain’t sure what you read about me, or how true it was, but I’ll take what goodwill I can get.” She raises her head a little more, but still looks worried, so I keep going. “Ain’t offended me—I get it. You were already thinkin of doin’ something dangerous. Gotta know what you’re in for best you can, with a heroic spirit. Only smart to try’n be prepared.”

Looking a little better, she cautiously un-hunches. “Yeah. …I really didn’t mean to say it how I did, though. I don’t think you’re bad! I mean, I know I don’t know you, but I-”

I hold up a hand. I feel like after all this, I really oughta let her off the hook.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a sure smile, “You don’t gotta explain yourself, or tell me what you thought, or what you think now. I don’t have to know. I’m aware you’re takin’ a risk on me, especially with my kind of record, and I appreciate it. Probably ain’t easy for you.”

Shit, haven’t thought about that before, but it’s true. Kid might have command seals, but I’m quick, and she’s not experienced. Pretty much any heroic spirit she summoned that wanted to could kill her easy. She didn’t think to use one immediately to order me to not. I’ve been so strung out and nervous of her, I haven’t thought for a second about the fact she’s probably scared of me.

“…Uhm. In light of that, Ma- Partner,” I correct, “I’d like to set a few things straight for you, if you don’t mind?”

She seems to recover a little, straightens up and gives me a very serious nod.

“If you’re worried about me, don’t be. Whatever you heard, truth is I never killed anybody except when it was them or me, or I was defendin’ someone else. I never was a fan of it, either. Only crimes I ever set out to commit were thefts, mostly outa need,” I say, “Where I grew up, once you had a reputation, that was all you had left. I stole food when I was on my own at sixteen, and there weren’t no turning back after that. ‘Bout that simple.”

The gal’s listening attentively, head cocked. Takin this serious. And I’m still thinkin over how this has probably been for her. Angering a group of powerful mages is scary enough. Now she’s contracted to an outlaw spirit, and she’s apparently a mage who’s got no real practice usin spells. She’s basically just a civilian. She’s all alone here too, and somethin like sixteen or seventeen, and she’s got no real idea what I’m gonna be like, or want, or do. I’m not in great shape, but I’m still a heroic spirit, and a lot more powerful than her, and I’ve killed people. That’s a pretty good reason to be scared. I don’t want her to be, though. At all.

“I know all you got’s my word on this,” I say, working hard to convey my sincerity, “But it is the truth. More importantly, you saved my life, and I owe you. I really am grateful. I got no plans to try and hurt you; I promise—you got nothing to worry about.”

FUCK. What I’ve just said hits me like a ton of bricks. Fuck, I should’ve phrased that differently!—no no no—damn it damn it; I should have thought about it first! Hell! I am gonna hurt her! Probably. Not physically, which is what I was thinkin’ about when I said that, and meant, but it’s not technically what I said, shit shit shit, I just promised her something I’m gonna break—oh great, and I must have some amount of that showin’ on my face because she actually does look nervous now. I lied and I actually made her more afraid of me. Great job! Damn it damn it damn it.

“I’m really not the kind of person to do that,” I add quickly, trying hard to save it. This is bad this is bad. “I wouldn’t have a reason to anyway, but you definitely don’t gotta worry about me—” Everything I am thinking to say is wrong. All of it. ‘turning on you’ – a lie. ‘repaying that by making you sorry’ – a bigger lie. Shit. And I feel like it now too, more than before. I’m the worst—I’m terrible. I know I don’t have an alternative, and I have to go back, but this is awful, and I feel very appropriate amounts of guilt about it. I deserve this. “attacking you or something,” I go with, even though it sounds weird in my ears, because I don’t want to outright lie again, and even this much is making me feel miserable. “after you’ve been good to me.”

I hate this. I hate myself. Maybe. …Maybe there’s another way, maybe I can… Can…

She smiles for a moment, happy I said that I think, then slowly looks worried. “You look worried.”

Oh. I guess I’m the one who looks worried.

I…

I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to work this out better than it’s gonna be. I just. …I just…

…Fuck it.

“I am,” I say honestly, turning my head to look at her. She’s so sincere, and so worried. She’s been so good to me. I just. … I just… “I’m worried about Ur-shanabi,” I say, so sure I’m going to regret this in seconds, but doing it anyway because of some deep inherent flaw in who I am, “I’m okay right now, but I figure with me gone, they’ll just take another one of us and do the same thing. If they haven’t already.”

I watch slow horror creep over her face as that clicks. “…I. Would…? Oh. They will. And it’ll be my fault.” she says, glazed-over expression on her face.

What? “No!” I say immediately, “That it’s someone else and not me? It ain’t your fault. It’s theirs—they’re the only ones doin’ it, aren’t they?”

She comes back to herself a little and looks at me, but her face is still drained of color.

“It won’t be your fault,” I say again, “That’s ridiculous, and you know it. …They will keep doin’ it, though. Probably to more and more of us, if they can. Probably they’ll sell the idea to other mages too.” I hesitate, give myself one last solid chance to reconsider this, and don’t. Just pray for luck. I’ve gotten a lot of it the last 24 hours—maybe I have a pinch left. “…Unless I find a way to go back and stop them pretty fast. It’s that, or this is gonna keep happening to us. And it’s only gonna get worse. …I got friends, in the throne. …I don’t want that to happen to any of them. Even for the ones I don’t know, even the ones I don’t like, it’s like you said: nobody deserves that. So. I think. …I gotta go back.”

Her eyes are huge and I can see her running what this means, trying to process it all. I’m praying she’ll agree with me, but it’s such a long shot to get from an idealistic teen.

“Please!” I try, going for the best pitch I can before she decides to force me not to, “I-I know you’ve met those people, and I’m askin’ a lot, but at least think about it. You helped me because you knew what they were doing was wrong—I know it too, and I’m the only one in a position to shut it down. I can’t do nothing, and this is the only way to end it. You don’t know what it’s like. We-“ I’m getting to desperate, and I know it, but I hold up a hand and plow on because so long as I keep talking, she isn’t, and I don’t know what else to try. “—Our bodies are pretty close to what they were before; we feel pain the same, we can just survive more of it. I-I’m lucky, I got shot—I’ve known spirits who were bled to death, or hung, or burned, or decapitated—you can’t imagine what it would be like to be stuck chained down forever with your head just not quite severed all the way enough to kill you. I know it’s not your fight, and it’s not fair for me to ask this, but I have to try and stop them. And I—can’t. Without an anchor. Please...”

Maybe this won’t be a terrible idea. Maybe it won’t backfire on me immediately. Maybe she’ll let me go. Maybe she’ll understand. Maybe I won’t have to—

For a moment, she stares at me, motionless. Then her eyes well up.

Damn it. Damn it; I knew! I knew she’d feel like she had to stop me, and I showed her my hand because I felt bad, and now promise or no, she—

“I’m so sorry…” she whispers, and I’m fully expecting the threat of a command spell to follow that, but instead she tucks her knees up to her chest and folds over into a little ball and starts crying again.

I don’t…rightly know what to do about that, so for a second I just stare at her like an idiot.

“I know it was bad,” I hear muffled and choked up from the little bundle she’s made herself into, “I. I don’t—don’t know how awful it was, I know, but I know it was—I know it was so bad. And it’s my fault it was you.”

What?

“You have to go back?” she asks pleadingly, looking up at me for a second from over her knees, like she’s asking me if I gotta go die in a war, “What if they catch you and put you back where you were? O-or kill you and just summon you into a trap again? I’ll never get back in if—”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘your fault’?” I ask, still stuck on that and very lost again. So much so she’s halfway through her next paragraph before I even clock that me potentially getting trapped again is the only thing she has immediately objected to.

Ritsuka looks at me with her big, tearful eyes, then looks defeatedly at her knees. “…I. One day, several months ago, I showed up for a research day and Doctor Nakata had these boxes on the table, and a bunch of papers.” The kid looks and sounds completely miserable, and exhausted. “I didn’t know what any of it was, so I asked him. He said it was for another project, and to just wait a few minutes while he packed it up. …And then he changed his mind, and said actually, would I come over? He told me they were deciding between a few candidates for a project, and at this point it didn’t really matter which one they started with, and would I like to pick one. I asked what the project was, and he said it was a secret. But, it looked so important, and cool, and I wanted to be involved, so I said yes please, and I went up and picked. I didn’t know what they were.”

Ritsuka grimaces and looks sadder, rests her chin on her knees and exhales slowly. “No, I think I did. I just didn’t know what they were for. I could sense they were all magical, and they were all odd, and specific. An old little clay vase. A shuriken. An earring. A coin. A letter. And a photograph.”

I stare. She makes herself look up at me, and I can see how sorry she feels. “I picked the photograph.”

Ah.

“He even told me later,” she adds quietly, all the spunk gone, “That I picked you. When I asked, after seeing—”

“Good.”

She looks up quickly, surprised.

“I appreciate you feelin’ bad for me,” I continue sympathetically, “But it ain’t your fault, what happened to me. You didn’t know what was goin’ on, and if it hadn’t been me, it’d have just been someone else. Luck of the draw; just how life happens. On top of that, they’d have gone after every one of us on that list eventually, and if I hadn’t been here and now with you, I might not have ever gotten out.” It’s true, and I give her a smile. “Also, this whole thing is a pretty big relief.”

“A relief?” she echoes, confused.

I nod. “You get summoned with a catalyst, ain’t much you can do but show up, like it or not, but I wanted to answer the call when I got it. Up till now I thought my sixth sense had plain stopped workin’ or something. I guess it was actually just because I thought I was answerin’ your call.”

She looks confused for a moment, then smiles slowly. “…Really?”

I give a little head tilt. “Best I can guess.” I honestly don’t know if a summon can work that way at all, but I’d like to think so, and why not? Makes us both feel better.

I meet her gaze and try and get her to smile back, and this time it works.

“I really am sorry,” she says, “even if you’re not mad.”

“Well thank you,” I say, accepting the apology, “But consider it behind us.”

Something she said earlier that I had running in the back of my head comes through hard, and I feel the bottom of my stomach drop out.

“…You said a coin?” I ask, really, really, really hoping my gut feeling is wrong for once.

She nods, catching my expression and getting sympathetically worried along with me.

“…Was it kinda silver, with a face on one side, and a short cross and some words on the back?” I ask.

“Uh. I only saw one side, but it did have a face,” she says nervously.

“Was there a scratch across it? Deep? Diagonal on the face?”

“Yeah,” she says, surprised, “How did you know? What is it?”

Oh no. Oh shit that’s bad. Okay. Okay, this is gonna be okay. I can figure this out. He might not even be here yet, and I can snag the coin and he’ll be fine. All this means for sure is that I have to figure this out, more than before now.

“A friend,” I answer when I remember I need to, “—a catalyst to summon one, I mean.”

“Oh,” she says in a voice like I feel.

For a moment, we look at each other in silence. I got no idea what she’s thinking, but my mind’s far away and frantic, trying to piece together some kind of plan.

“…What do we do?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You said you gotta go back in,” says Ritsuka as I refocus on her, and I can see she’s come to some kind of decision, “And need me to help, and now you know they’re gonna hurt your friend unless we can stop them. I’ll help you, but I don’t know how. How do we go back and stop them?”

I gape.

“…You…want to help me?”

She gives a nod, looking confused that I’d ask her.

“You-? I mean—it might. …I might have to…shoot someone,” I say. Wow. Great job Billy you sure did sugar coat that and make it sound real fine. Nicely done.

Her eyes widen, and she glances away, hesitates. Then says slowly, “…But if we don’t, they’ll keep torturing heroic spirits for energy.” Working through it herself.

“That’s about it,” I agree sympathetically. It…can’t be easy for her. She’s a civilian, a kid. And she seems like a bleedin’ heart who doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She’s already been a lot more understanding towards my perspective than I expected.

“…So it’ll be bad either way,” she says finally, looking back and meeting my gaze.

I’m kind of taken aback that she’s put it into almost the same words I did to myself, but I nod.

“…That sucks,” she says to herself sadly.

“Yeah,” I agree quietly, looking at my own knees and thinking it over.

“…Is there a way to do it without killing anyone?” she asks after a second, hopeful.

Probably not. Even if I destroyed the whole building, there’s the people in charge who know how to do it, and can and will rebuild. I think she can see that on my face, because her expression falls.

“I…don’t know for sure,” I answer, “But. I think…probably not. … They’d rebuild. –Not all of them—not all of them would know how, but, at least a few will.”

She stares off at nothing, thinking.

I feel worse, somehow. Thought I was doing the nicer thing, basically giving her a chance to stop me, and risking my success. But. Now I think maybe I’ve accidentally been more heartless.

She shouldn’t have to carry a choice like this. Life ain’t fair, and I know that, but I’m finding I like being on the giving end of that even less than the receiving.

“…How old are you?”

The mage turns and looks at me, surprised, and flushes a little. “…I. S-seventeen?”

“Yeah?” I ask.

She nods.

Seventeen. She’s about the age I was when my life started really fallin apart. I hate being a part of that for someone else. I don’t want to.

“You don’t have to have anything to do with it,” I offer quietly, “You could dissolve our contract. Fifty-fifty chance I get the job done before I vanish, fifty—”

“—No!” she cuts in adamantly before I’m even halfway through my pitch, “No way! You’d get trapped there again! That’d be even worse! I made a deal with you to protect you if you trusted me! I’m not just gonna abandon you now.”

I blink. Tilt my head, taken aback by her fervor.

Did you? Is that what the contract was to her? I try to recall her words. ‘My soul becomes your will; your spirit becomes my destiny.’ Right, she said that wrong. But what I want to remember is before that. I try hard. “Please—If you die, they’ll summon you back! I-I can ground you! I can keep you here!” I can’t see much in the image in my head, but I can hear it, I can feel it—the pain and her hand on mine.

…I guess she did.

I don’t know how to respond to that. Look down at my own hand, playing it again in my head.

The kid is thinking still, her brow furrowed with worry. Taps the edge of the little bedside table agitatedly with a finger. “…So. Either we find a way to destroy their research, and get any other spirits they have out, and…maybe fight some of the people in charge,” she says finally, “…or they keep on doing this to you all, forever. There’s no other way things can go? You’re sure?”

I’ve already thought about it, but she’s so sincere and sad I think again, and then nod.

She sees that and glances at her hands and then back at me. “Then. …I guess we have to go back and stop them. You’re right.”

I stare at her. A-are you serious? Even as such a bleeding heart, you really—?

“But nobody gets hurt that doesn’t have to, okay?” she adds fervently, “And. I-I want to try to talk to the people in charge first! I know they won’t change their minds and it’s probably a waste, but.”

“—We can try,” I agree readily, overcome with relief, “Are you sure, though? You don’t have to stay contracted to me, and you sure as hell don’t have to come. You—you’ve already taken a lot of risks for me, big ones, and I know I’m basically returnin that favor by involving you in bloodshed. I don’t want to do that.”

It’s her turn to look surprised, and she blinks and tilts her head right back at me, and for some reason it makes me feel a whole lot better and a whole lot worse at the same time. But also more like I understand her.

“You’re not doing anything to me,” she says simply, “They’re the ones doing something that has to be stopped. It’s not your fault you’re the one who knows about it.”

I…guess that’s true. Feel like I’m getting my own words thrown back at me; maybe I am.

“It sucks,” she adds, “And I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt anybody, or get anyone else hurt. But. Mom and Dad always said it’s just as bad to stand by and let somebody be hurt as it is to hurt them yourself, if you could have done something about it. So. I want to help you, and I will.”

“You’re sure?” I ask again, “It’s…it’s a whole lot, and it ain’t gonna be easy, or safe, and you’re—” If I say ‘a kid’ I think she’s gonna get offended because I would have when I was seventeen. “Young. It shouldn’t be on you to fix.”

“Well, you’re young too,” she says.

Ow. I’m twenty-one. I know I’m short, but at least I’m an adult.

“And you’re mostly dead, so let’s just agree it’s unfair for both of us, but we’re partners, and someone has to do it, and we’re here, so that’s us,” she says very diplomatically.

I give up and sigh, then offer her a hand. “If you’re sure, Partner.”

She takes my hand and shakes it.

“So, what can I do?” she asks as she lets go.

“Well, anything you know about the building’s layout’ll help, and what defenses they might have. Mostly, I just need to get back to fighting shape,” I answer.

She nods. “Food, then?”

I give in again and smile. “Thanks.”

#fate grand order AU #fate series #fate fic #writing #billy the kid #ritsuka fujimaru #fate go #The Kid #The Kid (fic)#I wish I had as much time as my heart wants for writing :'-]#'Gudako' basically means 'boring girl'. and Billy called himself William Bonney which is Irish for 'William Attractive' more or less so they #deserve to both be roasted but in the most loving way possible also Ritsuka my dear I'm so sorry your friends suck

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