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Iori shouldn’t have really been that surprised to hear that Saber had arrived before him.
After their introductions, a bubbly red-head (who he had learned was named Ritsuka, and like him before, was a master, and now was his master) led him through the hallways of the expansive Storm Border. One main hallway looped in a circle, with smaller passageways to dip into with rooms upon rooms to fit every possible need.
Ritsuka acted as a very thorough tour-guide, showing him around and introducing him to the many, many servants that they passed by during their tour. It should not have been that big of a surprise that in the many years Ritsuka and Chaldea had been fighting to save humanity that they would have accrued a decent number of servants - but as he crossed paths with famous warriors, historic kings and spirits of hope and of vengeance - it struck him just how many figures had come together to fight for the future.
The ship’s size and magnitude reminded Iori of Archer’s noble phantasm, and suddenly, a thought struck him. “Are…you familiar with the Waxing Moon’s Ritual?” he asked, tentatively, unsure about how much Saber had shared.
Ritsuka paused, bringing her fingers up to play with them anxiously. “N-not too much,” she laughed awkwardly, pressing her index fingers together. “There weren’t too many records of that war left over, and while I have been able to summon some of the servants from that war, it’s only really been a couple that remember the events of it.”
Iori nodded solemnly. As far as he understood it, a servant’s summoning could be tricky and details of previous wars could be forgotten. He had seen that in action when Ritsuka ‘introduced’ him to Circe - it was clear that something was tugging at the back of her mind, but ultimately, their time in Edo had been forgotten.
Of course, he could not blame them. Without the event, he likely would have forgotten much of the Waxing Moon himself.
“Besides Saber and I though,” Iori begins, letting the rest of the sentence settle between them.
Ritsuka appears to catch the hint, and claps her hands, “Oh, of the original seven servants? Well…no…If everything goes well, I might be able to summon…the Rider of that war, and her master.” She looked off to the side, a sheepish grin spreading on her lips. “If they’re nice to me, of course.”
“I see,” Iori comments. “A shame. I would have enjoyed sipping tea with Archer, in this new setting.”
Ritsuka watches him carefully and her smile softens. “Don’t worry - I’m sure you’ll have the chance, soon.” Before a silence can descend, she claps her hands, turning on her heel to continue walking down the main hallway. A wall of floor-to-ceiling windows reveals the soft, white clouds interspersed with dazzling blue sky.
“Either way! You now have the opportunity to meet - and fight - so many new servants, too!” She turns her head to glance at him and winks, “I’m sure if you asked Saber, they’d be willing to introduce you.”
Iori pauses briefly, slightly taken aback, but is back in step within a beat. A warmth grows in his chest. “Oh? Has…have they been making friends?”
Ritsuka nods enthusiastically, “Yep! They’ve settled right in!”
The warmth blossomed, spreading through his body.
When he had first heard that Saber had been summoned before him, he had been worried. Saber’s life had been defined by bloodshed and loss. Even during their time together in Edo, it was filled with swords clashing and violence. Rarely did they have moments where they could pause and enjoy life - let alone speak with the other heroes who had also been summoned to fight in this war. Someone so marked by war - would they be able to fit into a more relaxed setting?
A soft smile spread across Iori’s lips. It appeared as if they had. A mountain of worry was pulled off of his shoulders.
“They’ve really gotten close to Touta,” Ritsuka continued. She turned, lifting a finger, “Tawara Touta. Just in case.”
Iori nodded, “I am aware of his legend.”
He blinked twice, letting that fact settle in. The legendary Archer tasked with killing the giant centipede of Mount Mikami. His arrow that flew around the mountain seven times, a hero known for easily handling any demon. He supposed it made sense that they’d get close - they were both older, Japanese spirits known for their fights and their prowess. If their myths were anything to go by, their friendship did click in Iori’s head.
“Of course - he’s probably the only hero that could keep up with their appetite!” Ritsuka laughs, giving Iori a knowing smirk.
Iori stopped.
Ah.
Right. When Tawara Touta defeated the centipede, he was gifted with a bag of rice that never emptied, no matter what. It was an important detail to his story - it then made sense it would follow him into his summoning.
And Saber’s appetite was a monster in of itself…
A new dread hit Iori instead. He stared at his master, hoping that Ritsuka would get the hint to elaborate, but all she said was, “Lots of rice balls.”
Iori opened his mouth to speak, to ask more, his mind spinning a hundred times per second. How much time had Saber been spending eating compared to fighting? How much time had they been spending with Touta? Had the archer successfully found the end of that bottomless pit?
…Could servants even gain weight?
He begins, but Ritsuka cuts him off. “You can ask them all about it yourself.” The smirk on her lips was all-knowing, her eyes lingering on Iori’s cheeks, red despite his best efforts.
Dropping that hint into his mind, she turned away. “Have fun settling in! I’ll check in with you later, k?”
It was only then that he realized that their stroll together had ended with Iori standing in front of a pair of doors, with the sign ‘Dining Hall’ sitting right above. And from the loud bustling coming from inside, well - it sure sounded like it was in use.
From just above the chatter, as clear as the midday sea, Iori could distinctly hear it:
“More, please!”
Saber’s crisp, cheery voice.
Iori steels himself, balling his hands into his fists. Despite everything, he wanted to see Saber again. All of that time together in the war, all of those battles meant something. Even if the specifics were still muddy in his mind, he remembered the hard and the kind times together. He wanted to see Saber again, even if they had changed with their summoning. He wanted to learn about their time in Chaldea and the friends they had made. No change in their appearance would change Iori’s feelings for them.
He breathed out a sigh, closing his eyes just for a brief moment before stepping through the automatic doors into the Dining Hall.
It was packed.
But not from too many patrons, no, but from the overwhelming presence of one specific individual. As the doors swished close, Iori suddenly felt trapped, as if he had wandered into a room with a big boss.
From the other side of the room, he could clearly make the black-and-white form that was Saber. Sitting, pushed away from the table, they sat on a chair that looked like it was putting in a lot of work - the seat looked like it was just moments away from collapsing due to the overwhelming weight.
The overwhelming weight - Saber had somehow, in the brief months between their summoning and Iori’s summoning, gained an overwhelming amount of weight. Their outfit - which usually hung loose on their body, making it almost impossible to tell what Saber’s body looked like underneath - now hugged every possible curve. It left nothing to the imagination as it stretched around Saber’s frame.
Their flat chest had swollen up now to two soft, squishy breasts, resting carefully on a thick roll of fat that dipped down to their gut. The cloth that usually hid most of Saber’s front now stopped much higher, unable to crest the entire heft of Saber’s gut. It rose and fell with each breath, practically hypnotizing Iori with its movements.
His eyes rose up, from Saber’s tree-trunk thighs, which threatened to rip the fabric of their usually-loose pants, up from their large gut that spilled out the side of the chair, past their chest and their double-chin, to their round and squishy face. They happily chewed on a rice ball, as if their current situation was perfectly normal, as if this form was the usual.
In record timing the rice ball was finished. They moved their chubby hand, fingers fat and stubby, down to the plate, ready to take the next one, when:
“Saber!” Iori called out. He looked down at them.
How?
How…did he end up here so quickly? His mind blanked; he must have sprinted over. He was now standing mere inches away from his old servant, his mind still trying to understand how they had managed to transform so quickly.
From this distance, he could catch more details. How Saber’s double chin folded cutely into their thick neck. The flecks of rice on their face. The blush on their cheeks. Iori found himself copying it, despite his best efforts.
Their face here…it looked so cute. He tried to hold himself firm, but he couldn’t help himself from his eyes wandering down, catching the way their stomach hid their lap, and how their arms burst in their sleeves.< /p>
Saber’s lips pulled into a big grin, “Iori! You’ve arrived!” It was such genuine joy that it almost snapped Iori out of all of this, his desire to see Saber almost outweighing the drastic difference in their time here to when they had been in Edo together.
Iori couldn’t handle it anymore.
He reached down, pulling a rice ball from the plate Saber had been snacking on. They were well-crafted; way different than what Kaya could make. It also had weight, sitting heavy in Iori’s palm as he lifted it up. It looked delicious; if they were crafted by Touta, they likely were divine. He should try one…
“...Iori?”
…But also, why was he suddenly compelled to feed Saber more? His thumb brushed over the seaweed paper. Saber definitely did not need more - if this had been their diet for the past months, of course it made sense that they had ballooned out the way they had in such a short time. And yet, something in him said that he really wanted to feed this to them…
His eyes focused on the specks of rice on Saber’s cheeks. With his free hand, he brushed them away with his thumb, using it as leverage to open up their mouth.
“Iori?” they asked again, their tongue barely brushing Iori’s thumb. The heat rose to his cheeks from the pit of his stomach. Without replying, he brought the rice ball up, pushing it past Saber’s lips. It filled their cheeks, and Iori carefully, quietly, watched as Saber finished it, swallowing it with a contented sigh.
Iori’s mind was running a mile a minute. His eyes fluttered down to Saber’s new form. For a being whose whole life was defined by murder, by fighting and of loneliness, was it not then…a sight to see them like this, fattened up by friends and by…
“Would you…like another?” Iori asks, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Fattened up by him?
How fat could they end up? What was the limitation for servants? And why was he getting hotter, despite his best interests? It made no sense; but seeing Saber like this made him push past any thought-processing, focusing on how cute his servant looked like this. How much fatter they could become.
Saber’s face twists into that grin he knew all too well. “Of course!” They winked, “You may be weak, but this might be a thing you’re finally good at!”
Iori matched them, smirking as he brought the plate up before beginning his work. One after the other he fed them rice balls, watching as their soft gut grew firm from him stuffing them. Seeing them twist and gasp, push past their limits, it made something rise from inside Iori, and he pushed it down with another rice ball in Saber’s mouth.
“Oh hi!”
From the kitchen, a figure with teal hair suddenly appeared. He had an apron hugging his hips and a plate of more rice balls in his hand. Casually as ever, he walked up to the pair, as if Saber, now full from the feast, and Iori standing over them with an empty dish, was perfectly normal.
“I thought I’d come out to see if Saber needed help, but looks like I didn’t need to! You’ve got it all covered!” He winked, giving Iori a pass-over with an all-knowing smirk. “You must be the old master - Iori, was it?”
Iori nodded, “And are you Tawara Touta?” When the servant nodded yes, Iori added, “Then I suppose…I have you to thank. For multiple reasons.” He blushed, looking down at Saber. His eyes lingered on the curve of Saber’s stomach, and how it rose and fell with each sharp breath.
Touta laughed, “You’re very welcome, then!” He placed the rice balls down on the table, admiring his handiwork. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who can catch up with my cooking - and that’s saying a lot, with the kinds of people who get summoned here.”
He looked up, tracing a rice ball with his fingers as his gaze dropped down to Iori’s chest. “And you know - if you ever want to challenge me - let me know.”
Iori swallowed hard, his mind turning over and over suddenly. He blushed; if Saber felt this good to the point of being obese, then…
“M-maybe,” Iori mumbled. Once again, Touta chuckled, patting Iori’s shoulder.
“I like that hunger, no wonder you guys were master servant.” He holds up a ball and cocks his head, “Well?”
