Chapter Text
I was dying. I died. I am dead.
That was supposed to be the end. And it was, in a way. But this isn’t at all how I imagined it to go. My body is gone, but I’m still here. But where the hell is here?
I feel them watching me. All around me, I feel us blending together at the edges. Asleep. Stagnant. Existing outside of every moment in time, yet living through all of history at once. All of them. All of… us?
It’s impossible. Yet, I seem to have a knack for stumbling into impossibilities, don’t I?
It’s obvious where I am now, as much as I wish it were otherwise. Archer once told me how he, a normal human, managed to be engraved upon the Throne of Heroes. A deal with the World, promising to serve as a weapon of the Counter Force. I asked him if I might be able to do the same one day. He laughed in my face. Said that I, of all the people in the world from past, present, and future, wouldn’t need to do a single damn thing.
I’ve contracted with many beings over the years. Gods. Heroes. Monsters. Devils. Alaya was never one of them, but here I am regardless. Just like always, looks like Archer was right.
“Let silver and steel be the essence.”
…What?
“Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.”
I know that voice. I know those words.
“Let red be the color I pay tribute to. Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.”
It’s impossible. This should be impossible.
“Let the four cardinal gates close. Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.”
My corners of my mouth spread into a grin. Again, I seem to have stumbled into another impossibility. Even in death, I can’t seem to escape the burden forced upon me in life.
"Let it be filled.”
Do I do it? Do I go to him? Do I dare to answer his call for help? Am I truly so far gone that I’m willing to shoulder this responsibility again?
“Again. Again. Again. Again.”
Such conviction. Such naivety. If I’m able to hear the call, I suppose that means there’s only one way this is gonna end. Fine. I have room for one last adventure.
“Let it be filled fivefold for every turn, simply breaking asunder with every filling.”
Before the boy can speak another word, I hijack the ritual. If I’ve learned anything from my countless summonings, it’s that first impressions are the most important part of any decent Master-Servant relationship.
Spiritrons coalesce around the holy shield of the Round Table, manifesting my body with all the fables I’ve created and all the fables of others which have touched me in turn. I open my mouth, taking a breath of nostalgic Chaldean air. I open my eyes, looking down at the third-rate mage and the pink-haired demi-servant at his side. She moves to protect her master, only to falter as she looks upon my face.
“I declare it here,” I announce, the hem of my pure-white mystic code flapping around my knees as I take my first step onto solid ground. “My body shall serve under you. Your fate shall be with my sword. I submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail and answer in submission to your will and your truth.”
“S-senpai?” Mash asks in a weak whisper. I don’t know which of us she’s speaking to.
Beside her, the boy stands shock-still and slack jawed. I don’t blame him. Neither do I blame the doctor and the genius who come rushing into the room behind them. Nobody could have possibly expected this. Least of all, myself. But this is Chaldea. A place where impossibilities are made possible.
“From the seventh heaven, attended to by three great words of power, I have come forth from the ring of restraint.”
I flash the pale boy a grin and a wink, playfully cocking my head to the side.
“I'm sure you can probably tell, but my True Name is Fujimaru Ritsuka. My class is Ruler. I ask of you… are you my master?”