Chapter 292: Teacher Mashiro's Artwork
A room that should have been familiar to Shirou had become another realm entirely. Due to the girls moving in, bunk beds had been set up, and a faint, pleasant fragrance lingered in the air. Even though it was his own home, it felt like entering foreign territory.
In this second-floor room, everything was kept simple, following Artoria's disciplined leadership style. Aside from the stuffed lions and daily necessities on the beds, there wasn't much else. Her hobbies, after all, were limited to martial arts and eating.
This simplicity had cleared enough space for Mashiro to paint. Beside the bunk beds sat her computer and digital tablet for manga, but the area between the center of the room and the windowsill remained spacious. Now, that space was being used for painting, with Shirou standing directly across from her.
The window was wide open. Sunlight reflected off the sides, filling the room with a light that was neither dim nor blinding. Pillars of light of varying lengths fell across the mahogany floor. A breeze blew in, lifting the window screens high; the light filtering through the mesh rippled like water in the shadows. Looking out past the fluttering screens, the sky was a deep, profound blue.
From outside, the occasional sounds of Artoria and Jeanne's morning training reached the room. The clacking of their wooden swords was reminiscent of a shishi-odoshi (bamboo water fountain) in an ancient courtyard, emitting a clear ring as it struck stone.
The barefoot, blonde girl sat before her easel with a serene expression, looking toward Shirou. In this moment, everything possessed a charm that felt like it belonged inside a painting.
Then, the girl in the "painting" spoke again. Her vermilion lips parted, emitting an ethereal voice:
"Shirou... take them off."
"Eeeehhhh?!"
What a mood-killer. This time, even if Shirou wanted to pretend he had misheard, he couldn't. He looked at the dazed yet unexpectedly serious girl and asked, "Why?!"
"Why?" Hearing Shirou's question, Mashiro tilted her head in confusion.
BB-chan cupped her face, thinking excitedly: 'Do humans play like this? BB-chan had no idea! The Moon Cell has summoned Author Heroic Spirits before, but I never paid much attention to Artist Heroic Spirits. Turns out they're actually ruthless players?'
The purple-haired girl had previously been indifferent to Shirou's suggestion to interact more with human society, but now she felt enlightened, as if she had discovered a thrilling new world. The ones she admired now weren't the King of Knights or the Holy Maiden, but the true "genius" who seemed like an ordinary human!
Look at what she did! She actually told Shirou-senpai to strip! What a terrifying child!
"Don't ask me 'why' back! You suddenly told me to take them off—what exactly do you want me to do?" Shirou asked helplessly.
"Don't do anything. Just stand there," Mashiro said. She held up a pencil with her thumb raised, closing one eye to take aim at the boy.
Shirou froze for a second, finally realizing what was going on. "Are you... asking me to be a model?"
"Mhm. So, take them off!" Mashiro nodded. The paints were mixed; it was time to work. Everything was ready—all that was missing was a naked man.
"Why do I have to take them off?! Can't I just stand here like this?" Shirou retorted.
"Shirou? Are you shy?" Mashiro asked curiously.
"Of course I'm shy! And this isn't just about modesty! We're alone—well, mostly—in a girl's room! What are you trying to do by making a man take off his clothes!" Shirou shouted, his face turning red.
"It's okay! BB-chan is here too! So strip, Senpai! It's all for art!" BB-chan said, staring through the wide gaps between her fingers despite "covering" her eyes. Her eyes were glowing with anticipation.
"Shirou, it's fine. You'll get used to it after a few times. Don't worry about others' gazes; just show your most natural self."
"You want me to strip naked in a girl's room and show my 'natural self'? I have no idea what kind of 'natural state' that would even be!" Shirou barked back in a crazed retort.
"Then... how about we stand there and chat? If you move your attention elsewhere, you won't feel embarrassed," Mashiro suggested after thinking for a moment.
"Um... Mashiro-san, do you happen to have a lot of experience with this?" Shirou asked, surprised.
"Experience?" Mashiro tilted her head, then answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I've had Asian, African, and European models before. Oji-sans and Oba-sans too. Mainly adult women and the elderly."
As a genius painter who had studied in Europe since childhood, drawing the human figure was a fundamental skill she couldn't possibly have skipped. Shirou realized once again that this girl was vastly different from ordinary people, at least in terms of common sense and ethical boundaries.
"Shirou, you promised to help me, right?" Mashiro looked at him with the eyes of a small, abandoned animal.
Shirou couldn't resist and looked away. "I did say that, but the model doesn't have to be naked."
"If you're shy, shall I take mine off too?" Holding to the idea of equality between men and women, Mashiro made the proposal. She reached for her clothes, suggesting a "one piece for me, one piece for you" competition.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!!" Shirou screamed, stopping her.
"Eeeeh?! No stripping?" The purple-haired girl pretending to cover her eyes let out a cry of disappointment.
"Why do you look so disappointed?!" Shirou yelled at BB.
"Shirou..." Mashiro made a pitiful face, her large eyes shimmering like a lost pet.
In the end, Shirou compromised by going shirtless. Even as a Magus who had seen war and usually wouldn't care about such things, being scrutinized in every detail by a girl in an indoor setting was still incredibly embarrassing. His mind was in chaos, yet he felt a sense of unreality, as if he were in a dream.
"Can I touch you?" Mashiro suddenly stood up and walked over.
Squeeze, poke. The girl's fingers pressed against Shirou's abdominals and slid across them. She gave them a light squeeze. His abs, forged from years of cultivation and training, weren't the explosive, hyper-defined muscles of a bodybuilder on protein powder. Instead, they had a unique charm—the lean, explosive, "pink muscle" of a martial artist, balancing flexibility and hardness.
Furthermore, because he had served as a vessel for Heroic Spirits from various parallel worlds, his physical musculature had been influenced. Certain special areas—muscles that could only be trained or used in life-or-death situations—had been awakened and revived.
In this peaceful era, he was perhaps a unique specimen that couldn't be found anywhere else on Earth. Mashiro's investigative soul as an artist seemed to ignite unconsciously. She had an aura that suggested she wouldn't stop until she had thoroughly explored this body.
"...You're already touching me," Shirou said, his ability to retort failing him. Being touched a few times wasn't a big deal, even if it felt awkward and slightly "off." He endured it to support his friend's artistic career.
"Hehehe, Senpai is the type who looks lean in clothes but is ripped underneath. BB-chan won't be polite then!" The purple-haired girl watching the show wiggled her fingers, looking as if she were about to drool.
"BB, you aren't painting! Go back!" Shirou reached out, grabbed the purple-haired girl's head, and ruthlessly pushed her back.
"Wooo, so what if you can paint..." BB flopped back onto the bed, pouting gloomily.
Squeeze, knead... rub, rub... Mashiro felt the texture through her palms. She turned her hands over, a look of wonder on her face.
"Um, is that enough, Mashiro?" Shirou asked.
"Let me feel a bit longer. Shirou's muscle structure feels very mysterious. I'm almost at that 'feeling'." Mashiro focused intently on the sensation under her fingers. Her heart rate seemed to speed up, and her face felt a bit hot.
To see the distribution of the muscles clearly, the girl leaned down, getting closer and closer until her nose almost touched the boy's body. Finally, Mashiro simply knelt on one knee, crouching down and slightly swaying her head. She gripped the boy's waist with both hands, resting her center of gravity on him as she meticulously examined every detail of his abs.
At that moment, the door opened.
"Wait? Shirou? Mashiro? What are you two doing?" Seeing this scene, Jeanne asked in confusion. She couldn't understand what a half-naked Shirou and a crouching Mashiro were up to so close together.
After their training (brawl) outside, the two of them had taken a quick shower, changed into clean clothes, and returned to the living room. Finding no trace of Shirou, they came upstairs to check, only to witness this.
"Mhm? What's going on? Cold-blooded girl? Why are you on the floor? Did you eat too much and hurt your stomach?" Jeanne asked, still genuinely confused.
"Mashiro... have you already grown up?" Artoria clutched her chest. For some reason, an image flashed through her mind—the moment a knight informed her of the affair between Guinevere and Lancelot. Though she had wished to support them back then, this time, her chest felt incredibly cold and painful. It felt like being a certain Magus who had been stabbed in the back by the apprentice he raised.
"Ah, are you done, Artoria?" Shirou asked, oblivious.
"It's okay now! I know how to paint it!" Mashiro silently pulled away from Shirou and walked back to her easel. She added a few deep strokes to the "Apollo's belt" (inguinal creases) on the sketch of Shirou, making the muscles look more vibrant and domineering. She then put down her brush; the composition was complete.
Even as a pre-color sketch, it showed extraordinary vitality. It looked as though the man in the drawing would leap out of the canvas once finished. That specific line of muscle was full of life, carrying a profound charm that triggered human instinct. It was as hot as an eternal flame, ready to ignite a torch in a person's heart—especially a woman's.
"What, so you were just painting," Jeanne sighed, her annoyance fading. At first, she thought something strange was happening. Seeing the "cold-blooded girl's" reaction, she felt like Mashiro knew something she didn't, which made her feel a bit foolish.
'So it was just painting. Good thing I didn't ask; it's a relief I didn't expose myself,' the silver-haired girl thought.
Her Alter-Ego self was originally based on Caster Gilles de Rais's idealized image of Saint Joan, created with the power of the Holy Grail. In terms of actual age, she was just a little girl not much older than Jeanne d'Arc Santa Lily. Even the original Maiden of Orleans had spent her life in the countryside doing farm work or praying in church, intending to dedicate her life to God like a nun. Once she received the divine revelation, she was busy with war until she was burned at the stake. She died a pure virgin. Even if the Grail granted her common sense on such matters, it wouldn't have provided a step-by-step "Sensei" style education. These were completely foreign territories to the pure Jeanne; she couldn't even make the connection to "other" things.
"Eh? Ah? Just painting?" Artoria, who was still slumped on the floor, looked up in surprise. "It really was just painting," BB-chan said, laughing from the bed. "I see... so that's how it is." Artoria stood up. Looking at Mashiro's finished sketch, her heart finally calmed. She looked closely at the boy in the drawing; his appearance was captured, but more importantly, his unique aura was portrayed.
Artoria praised Mashiro: "It's a wonderful drawing." "Mhm. Actually, a full-body nude would have been better," Mashiro said with some regret. "Eeeeek! Mashiro, you actually wanted to paint a naked Shirou?!" Jeanne cried out, her face turning red. "Mhm!" Artoria shuddered instantly. As I thought, Mashiro is very dangerous!
"Mhm?" Mashiro tilted her head, but since she couldn't figure out why they were reacting that way, she gave up. She turned to the boy and said, "Shirou, I'm hungry. I want baumkuchen and pineapple buns." "Yes, yes. I've already prepared them for you. But wash your hands before you eat," Shirou promised.
And so, the incident finally came to a close. As for Mashiro continuing to paint his semi-nude portrait in her room, Shirou didn't dare think about it too much, choosing to forget it like a bizarre dream.
He didn't know that several months later, this painting would be sent to England for an exhibition. As the new work of the genius girl who had gone to Japan, it was highly anticipated by those in the art world. When people saw it in person, it caused a sensation. It was considered a new breakthrough for Shiina Mashiro and a masterpiece.
The painting, titled "The Samurai Boy," became a target of fierce bidding among wealthy women because it showcased the most perfect male abdominal muscles. In the end, it was auctioned for a staggering price and acquired by a famous noble family in Finland. It was a harvest of both fame and fortune. After that, even her parents and teachers, who had opposed her pursuing her manga dream in Japan, were left speechless.
It was a happy ending for everyone.
At this very moment, Mashiro was still in her room, using her brush to touch up the canvas. Recalling the texture from earlier, she felt mesmerized. She silently vowed in her heart:
'One day, I will definitely make Shirou agree with his own lips to let me paint him completely naked!'
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