"Hm~"
Humming a familiar tune, Sakatsuki carried the picnic basket and settled under a shady tree.
Behind him, Draco quietly scanned the surroundings, while Illya, Miyu, and Kuro huddled together, trembling.
The moment they stepped away from the camp, they unexpectedly plunged into a displacement space. After a rollercoaster-like sensation of weightlessness, their feet finally touched solid ground again.
Without a doubt, it was a prank from Sakatsuki.
But the girls quickly forgot the shock. A gentle breeze brushed past, cooling and soothing their nerves, replacing fear with comfort.
The dense forest faded away. The once nearly sky-blocking canopy gave way to a clear, washed sky above, a star-studded plain beneath, where a crystal-clear stream splashed over white stones, and birdsong echoed deeper into the mountains.
Grass swayed, unfamiliar trees gently swayed, and pure white petals drifted down like snowflakes, dancing softly in the air, carrying a fragrance reminiscent of osmanthus.
They stood beneath that tree, bathed in white blossoms like a gentle rain.
"What a beautiful view." Sakatsuki sighed lightly in the snowy, dreamlike scenery. He unpacked his things—opened a parasol, spread out a mat, took the basket and set it down.
A bottle filled with amber liquor nearly toppled out of the basket, but a single 'snowflake' petal landed on the bottle and gently pushed it back in place.
With children present, Sakatsuki refrained from saying something like "Good scenery deserves a drink," and instead just sat down, smiling warmly at everyone: "Sit, try my cooking."
At that moment, Sakatsuki wore a rare sincerity and ease, without his usual guardedness. "The scenery here is nice, isn't it? I noted it down yesterday while wandering. I planned to come here alone, but then I thought—being alone would be too lonely."
"It's really beautiful here…" Illya and Miyu, inexperienced in life, couldn't quite support the grandeur of such breathtaking beauty. They just stared silently at the masterpiece before them, then reluctantly sat, curiously plucking the petals from the ground, treasuring them.
Compared to them, Draco was the Roman Empress—she had seen the Mediterranean's beauty countless times. And Kuro was no child. Soon, they both withdrew their gazes and turned to the dishes laid out by Sakatsuki.
There were scattered sushi infused with the breath of spring, exquisite tiramisu, brightly colored sandwiches, egg tarts, macarons, and doughnuts...
For Illya, this feast was too abundant—even the Shirou Emiya of that world wouldn't have had enough ingredients or patience to prepare such a meal.
"I'm starting~~"
Clouds passed clear skies, wind brushed the plains. After their bellies were full, Illya wiped crumbs from her mouth and finally remembered why they were here.
"Oh, right, Mr. Sakatsuki, Ritsuka-nee told us something!"
She nervously nodded, white petals falling from her silver hair. Her crimson eyes held some unease, but she summoned courage and said: "Um… please don't get mad… Ritsuka-nee said you're actually Father Sakatsuki, and that you and Sakatsuki-kun are the same person!"
"Oh." Sakatsuki's expression didn't change at all. He even had the leisure to brush away Draco's hand, stopping her from sneaking a bite. "Now that you know, I'm sure you have many questions?"
With open palms, his posture was so calm: "As a reward, let me answer your questions willingly—starting with my origin."
Back at the camp, around the round table.
Because of the commotion caused by the Ahoge, Diarmuid had come downstairs, and others also gathered to see what ridiculous antics the happiest Ahoge was up to today.
Well, it was just their nature to have fun—especially when the topic was the most mysterious one, Sakatsuki.
He appeared on his own, without saying why or what for, and especially refusing to have late-night talks with his Master, which had Ritsuka doubting her own charm.
How do you raise affection without late-night chats? How do you bond without joining the team in battle? She definitely couldn't just sneak a bubble teapot (Hoshimi Teapot) into Sakatsuki's room at night!
If the bond didn't increase, Sakatsuki's character story would never unlock. And the reason Ritsuka cared so much was simple—Sakatsuki was different from the heroic spirits; he was a person, from another time and space, very much alive.
Even with Illya and the others arriving first and preparing her mentally, Sakatsuki's actions continued to leave Ritsuka repeatedly incredulous.
That incredibly profound mastery of magecraft, combat power rivaling top-tier Servants, his unusually intimate knowledge of Chaldea... More importantly, Ritsuka wanted to know if he possessed the qualities of a true Master.
Further still—did he have the aptitude for spiritual particle transfer?
"What did you say?!" Cú Chulainn's outburst cut through Ritsuka's thoughts. The Lancer planted his hands on the table, staring incredulously at Artoria. "You mean he actually took part in a Holy Grail War—and won it in the end?!"
Ritsuka had seen that term before in Chaldea's archives.
Magi summoned heroic spirits inscribed on their thrones to fight for the sole Holy Grail—Just hearing it was enough to imagine the vast, tumultuous scale of such a war.
"If the King of Knights knows, that means you took part in that war too, right?" Kojirou mused thoughtfully.
"Yeah, that's right." Artoria faced her past with calm now. "I sought the Grail for an impractical dream and opposed him, but the result proved how ridiculous my obsession was."
She turned to Diarmuid.
"Since I participated as my original self, my memories of the Fourth Holy Grail War are clearer. But you, who also joined that war, should recall something as well, Lancer."
The last sentence was like a key. Diarmuid stared intently at Saber—even now clad in a summer swimsuit, he could still remember the gallant King of Knights under the moonlight.
For Heroic Spirit 'bodies'—their summoned forms—they only inherit memories from their lives before, summoned across time and space to wield their weapons anew for a new Master. Such things remain hazy like a fading daytime dream.
"Even so, I still remember the promise between us." Battle spirit flared unconsciously. The handsome warrior looked toward the King of Knights, flashing a slightly mad smile. "I do not regret dying beneath your Sword of Victory, but if possible, please fight me once again."
"Of course." Artoria nodded regally, the two exchanging smiles.
Mordred glanced left and right, suddenly annoyed.
"Hey, what's with the act? We've been in contact with that guy for so long and only now you realize it? That's way too slow to be believable."
"Ugh… I can't argue with that." Artoria immediately lost her momentum, even the ahoge on her head drooping.
Was she really going to admit that only after tasting a familiar scent did she realize who Sakatsuki truly was? That would definitely make Chaldea's Top 10 Annual Jokes list—right up there with the increasingly chaotic "Oeyama & Genji's Golden Album" incident!
"But… it's not my fault! Sakatsuki changed so much, and masked his presence so well even I couldn't sense the Round Table Knight's aura… Wait, Round Table?!
"I remember now!" Artoria blurted out. "Sakatsuki is the Round Table Knight I personally knighted!"
"Huh?!"
This time, the Servants' astonished cries echoed like thunder—especially from one rebellious knight, whose reaction nearly overturned the entire round table.
"I'm going to find him and get some answers!"
"Wait, calm down, Mordred!"
"Master, don't stop me!"
"No, I'm saying you can't beat him!"
"Uh, oh, ah… arghhh, this infuriates me! I swear I'll crush him!"
***
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