(Stare…)
"…What?"
(Stare…)
"…Something up?"
"Ugh, caught," the figure sighed. "I thought I was being stealthy…"
"You're… Altera, right?" Jeanne d'Arc Alter asked.
"You know me?" Altera replied.
"Of course I do," Jeanne said. "Master could pair me with any Servant at any time. How'd it look if I didn't know my colleagues? Messing up coordination and troubling Master isn't an option. So, I memorize every summoned Servant… ahem."
"…"
"Forget I said that," Jeanne snapped.
"Serious, huh?" Altera noted.
"Forget. It!" Jeanne insisted.
"You're a good Servant, caring so much for Master," Altera said.
"Tch—It's just what any Servant does!" Jeanne huffed. "Got a problem?!"
"No problem," Altera replied. "I have a civilization to share with someone like you."
"A civilization?" Jeanne blinked.
"Yes. Follow me."
Darkness and Light, The Meaning of Fumbles
"496, 497, 498, 499…"
In a room of the apartment, Rikka, the Master, was sweating through push-ups with intense focus.
"500! Great job, Rikka-kun!" Romani's voice chimed. "Today's training menu is done!"
At his signal, Rikka sprang up.
"Thanks for the coaching, Romani," she said.
"No problem—it's my main gig!" Romani replied. "I'm medical staff, after all. 500 sit-ups, back extensions, pull-ups, and running all checked off. Your muscles are nicely worked. Now, recover with some sports drink—I'm sending some over."
"Got it. Phew," Rikka said, wiping sweat and collapsing onto the sofa in her sports bra and spats.
"You look healthy, Romani," she noted. "Keeping a regular schedule?"
"Well, yeah!" he said. "With two reliable staff handling analysis and maintenance, I don't have to do everything. Three meals a day, nine hours of sleep—my vitals are perfect! All thanks to Gil-sama! So, I can oversee your training like this."
"Having some leeway's nice," Rikka said. "Don't overdo it, though. We're already short-staffed. If you feel off, rest immediately."
"…Ugh…" Romani faltered.
"Hm?"
"You're out there risking your life, yet you worry about a backstage guy like me…" he said. "You're such a good kid, Rikka-kun… Thank you, thank you…"
"What're you talking about?" Rikka laughed. "I can fight on the front lines because of everyone's support. You're a bit too pessimistic and negative, Romani. Whether you see the world darkly or brightly, it doesn't change—so why not enjoy the view?"
"I've always thought this, but you never waver or doubt," Romani said. "You're refreshingly straightforward."
"Well, I did my lifetime's worth of worrying, breaking, and doubting before coming here," Rikka said. "No reason or need to stress now. Plus—"
"Plus?"
"This environment's the best!" she grinned. "Surrounded by people I trust and rely on—that's huge! Romani, maybe try trusting everyone a bit more?"
Her words made Romani pause, a flicker of unease in his voice.
"W-What do you mean? I'm not hiding anything, just, y'know, where I stash my sweets… haha…"
"Trusting people isn't that scary," Rikka said gently.
"…Rikka-kun…"
"I trust you, Romani," she said. "I don't know what you're hiding, but if sharing helps you feel better, I'm here."
"…Thank you," he said softly. "I'm kind of a coward… I keep things surface-level with others. When things get tough, I just want to keep things as they are…"
"That's fine," Rikka said, downing her sports drink with a casual shrug. "Being weak's okay. Being a coward's okay. It shows you're honest with yourself."
"Rikka-kun…"
"You're weak but don't make excuses," she continued. "You work hard, and everyone's helped by your efforts. So… you don't have to force yourself to be strong."
She finished her drink and crushed the can.
"A place where you can be weak and keep going, where it's okay to admit weakness—that's rare," she said. "The world usually gangs up to crush the weak. So, don't push yourself too hard."
"—"
"I like the weak Romani," she said, smiling like the sun. "Thanks for always working hard. Don't overdo it, really."
"…Thank you, thank you, Rikka-kun," Romani said. "Don't push yourself either…"
"Oh, I forgot how to complain ages ago," she laughed, tossing the bottle and crushing a steel can.
"…Don't become like that, Romani," she murmured to no one.
"Alright, next is sword training with Artoria, right?" she said, perking up.
"Before that, Marie and Da Vinci have a report," the Hero King said, munching on ice cream as he descended. "Gather everyone, Master."
"We've finished analyzing the Helter Skelters," Marie said. "What's wrong, Romani? Crying?"
"N-No! Just… habanero dumplings hitting hard!" Romani protested.
"A grown man weeping in public? Have some shame," the King scoffed.
"No shred of kindness here! Tears dried up instantly, damn it!" Romani grumbled.
"I'll round everyone up!" Rikka said, dashing off.
"Wait," the King called. "Put on a jacket."
You'll catch a cold, Master.
He tossed her one.
"Thanks! Everyone—assemble!" Rikka shouted, laughing brightly as she ran.
"…What a kid…" Romani murmured.
"Hm," the King said. "A woman radiant as the sun—though…"
He muttered softly.
"The darkness she carries is deeper than the underworld's abyss. To embrace such darkness at her age and shine regardless—what a feat."
Huh…?
"Darkness never fades, like a shadow," he continued. "Those who don't grasp this sink into the darkness they create. So, what to do? Embrace it and shine brighter than it. That way, no shadow has room to form."
Embrace the darkness to become light…
"Even heroes falter under such karma, yet she's mastered it so young…" the King said, his crimson eyes narrowing with nostalgia.
"What a life she must've led, exposed to humanity's malice, betrayed by friends or abandoned by parents. Yet she's a woman worthy of unyielding resolve."
To make the King say this… What was Master Rikka's life like?
"Everyone's coming!" Rikka called, tilting her head. "What's up, Gil?"
"Nothing," he replied. "Just thought I saw unerasable tear stains on your face."
"For real?!" she gasped. "Was it from staying up all night with Blackbeard watching tearjerker anime?"
"Fuh," the King chuckled. "Truly, a spirited woman."
He patted her head, handing her a candy.
"Now, about the Helter Skelters," Marie began, her voice serious. "I'll explain their nature. Ready, Gil?"
"I allow it. Speak," the King said.
"What are Helter Skelters?" Mordred asked. "Keep crushing 'em, and they keep coming. Annoying as hell."
"That's what I'm explaining," Marie said. "Quiet or face Excalibur."
"I'll shut up!" Mordred said.
"In short, they're entirely made of 'mana,'" Marie said.
"Mana? For machines?" Rikka asked.
"Yes," Marie confirmed. "Their tech is unknown, but they're woven from mana. Forged as 'battle machines' instead of 'blades.' As long as there's mana, they can be produced infinitely—"
"A Servant's Noble Phantasm," the King interjected.
"Exactly, Gil," Marie said. "Da Vinci-sensei and I reached the same conclusion."
Helter Skelters are a type of Noble Phantasm, battle machines created by someone in the enemy's ranks…
Unlike the endless fog, they can be defeated.
"So, there's a Servant or enemy producing them," Rikka said. "If we take them out—"
"They all go down!" Mordred whooped. "Things are clearing up! Let's roll!"
Mordred grabbed Clarent, but Artoria stopped her.
"Wait," Artoria said. "We've only learned their creation mechanism and source."
"That's enough, right?!" Mordred argued.
"Then wander London's fog and break every bone fruitlessly," Artoria said. "Aimless marching suits a traitor."
"…Wait," Rikka said.
"Yes," Marie said. "The location of the Servant acting as their 'remote controller'…"
Is blocked by this fog, untraceable.
"Almost there, missy!" Cú laughed. "Perfectly imperfect! Haha, hilarious!"
"A step shy of perfection," the King said. "But short of full marks means greater results next time. Finding the insect's nest is commendable. Don't be discouraged, Marie. Well done."
"…Thank you…" Marie said, tears welling.
"Right!" Da Vinci added. "My disciple worked hard! Even with genius support, spotting mana traces in a mana-filled fog is a tall order."
"It's fine to fail sometimes," Romani said. "Have a manju, Marie."
"Thank you, everyone… I'll do better next time," Marie vowed.
I can't be arrogant enough to blame the support team.
Thank you, always, Romani, Olga Marie, Da Vinci-chan.
"Alright!" Rikka said. "Our turn now! Let's walk London until our legs give out!"
"No need," the King said. "With the support team's efforts, I'll find the source with my eyes—"
Just then—
"Okay, Fran knows the remote's location," Fran said, slumped like a listless big dog, offering a shocking proposal.
"For real?!" Rikka exclaimed.
"No way!" Mordred said. "You're not just a freeloading Lancelot, Fran!"
"Treating me like a NEET is no good," Fran said, flashing a peace sign. "I step up when it counts. I'll guide you. Vroom."
"—If only you didn't fumble, you'd be quite the intellectual knight," the King sighed.
"On behalf of all knights, I apologize," Artoria said. "Truly sorry. If you wish, I'll offer my head—"
"Father?!" Mordred gasped.
She went straight to execution…
"No need," the King said. "It wouldn't even make a good trophy."
"That's harsh!" Mordred protested.
"Fuhaha!" the King laughed. "Kings are like that! With a navigator, this tiresome Singularity's end is in sight! Prepare to move out!"
"Yeah!!" the group cheered.
"But," Fran added.
"Hm?"
"There's a condition."
Condition?
Before anyone could react—
"Walking's a drag," Fran said, leaping onto the King's back with a thud. "King, carry me."
"Guh—!" the King grunted.
"Comfy," Fran said. "Knights, protect me."
"What?!" Mordred yelped.
"No choice," the King said. "A fumble's consequence—shared responsibility. If a certain traitor hadn't fumbled, we'd avoid this trouble."
"This calls for justice!" Artoria said. "Specifically, seppuku, kaishaku, and head display—Saber-style!"
"Fumbles are that serious?!" Mordred exclaimed.
No choice. I'll have to select my treasures more carefully…
Carrying the listless big dog, the group set out to conquer the Helter Skelters…
"Melon bread!"
"Anpan!"
"Cream bread!"
"Animal bread!"
"So cute…!" Jeanne exclaimed.
"Exactly," Altera said. "Create cute things with your own hands. Use your imagination, knead dough, and make bread."
"…A blind spot," Jeanne realized. "Making cute things—that's the essence of girl power!"
"Exactly," Altera said.
"Yes, exactly!" Jeanne echoed.
"'Bread-making is a fine civilization!!'" they declared in unison.
-------------------------------
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