The kitchen smelled like garlic and soy, the scent drifting softly through the open windows into the warm Nebraska evening. Satoshi stirred the pan with one hand and leaned against the counter with the other, watching the sauce thicken with practiced ease. Shirou sat nearby, sleeves rolled up, polishing the new kitchen knives they bought that afternoon like they were sacred tools.
Riley and Ralts were still asleep upstairs. After the long day at the PRT building, no one had the heart to wake them.
It was quiet and peaceful, but not still.
"…You think things went okay today?" Satoshi asked, breaking the silence as he flicked the burner to low.
Shirou nodded once. "No red flags. They didn't seem like they were probing for faults. And Riley didn't panic. You held it together."
"I'm a professional worrier," Satoshi said, smiling to himself. "But… it felt good. Like maybe we're getting somewhere."
He paused, then added, "We should probably start looking into places in Brockton Bay."
Shirou looked up at him, still polishing. "Already?"
"Well, it's not like we'll move tomorrow. And Dragon's right—it's dangerous, yeah. But I know that city from the forums, from the PRT chatter. It's got potential for recovery."
"And you want your restaurant in a place like that?"
"I want it somewhere people need warmth," Satoshi said. "Food. Family. Something real."
Shirou didn't reply right away. Just nodded again, slower.
"…Then we'll have to sell this place first."
"Yeah," Satoshi said, flipping the pan. "Even with the credits we got from the Company… a restaurant takes more than money. Furniture. Permits. Suppliers. If we want to open something real, it'll eat through our savings fast."
There was a pause then Shirou added quietly, "We might need to summon someone else, soon."
Satoshi blinked. "What?"
"If we're going to Brockton Bay… If Jack Slash comes looking, or if Bonesaw's name resurfaces again… we'll need more protection. More stability. For her and you."
Satoshi frowned, placing the spatula down. "You're saying we should use the Company again."
"I'm saying we cover our bases," Shirou said. "You were the one who didn't want to get caught off-guard."
"I know. I just…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It feels like a big step."
"It is," Shirou agreed.
He placed the clean blade down and met Satoshi's eyes. "But so was saving Riley. So was trusting me. So was trusting you."
Satoshi looked back, his fingers still on the spatula. Then he nodded, slowly. "I'll… start going through the options tonight. Quietly."
"Don't choose a woman."
"Why not?" Satoshi smirked. "Afraid I'll find someone prettier than you?"
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "I'm not afraid. I'm just warning you. You said you're weak-willed."
Satoshi snorted. "…Maybe I'll summon a dog instead."
"Make it a smart dog."
"I only summon the best."
"Thank you."
.
Dinner had gone over well.
Riley had eventually wandered in still half-asleep, Ralts in her arms and the plush fox draped around her neck like a scarf. They'd all eaten in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't feel heavy anymore. Just homey. However, once Riley had gone to bed—after insisting Shirou help braid her hair while Satoshi folded laundry (the clothes they bought Riley)—Satoshi found himself lingering in the hallway outside their shared bedroom.
Shirou was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching him without speaking.
"…Can you train me?"
Shirou blinked. "Train you?"
"In self-defense. Or… magecraft. I don't know. I just…" Satoshi's voice dropped. "I want to be able to protect myself. Protect Riley. And you. If it comes to it."
Shirou was quiet for a long moment. "I'm a third-rate magus."
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. "You say that like I'm not literally a civilian with a panic reflex and sharp knives in my kitchen."
"I'm saying if you want to learn magic, I can't give you much."
Satoshi nodded slowly. "But fighting?"
Shirou straightened. "That, I can teach you."
There was something final about the way he said it. Like he'd made a silent decision—not just about training, but about trusting him with the kind of knowledge people died over.
"And we should consider using The Company," Shirou added, his voice low. "A few missions. We could earn enough credits to buy you some martial foundation. Or enhancements. Something subtle."
Satoshi looked down at his hands. Uncalloused. Still soft, for a chef.
"…Yeah," he said. "That sounds good."
He looked up. "And tonight, we'll check the summon list. See who's available."
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Your conditions still stand?"
"They do," Satoshi said firmly. "No one evil. Someone who deserves a second chance. Someone unhappy in their world—like you were."
Shirou stared at him. Then, after a breath: "Also not a woman. Or pretty."
Satoshi's ears turned red. "Seriously?"
"We've established you're weak-willed."
"I am not!"
"You picked me because you couldn't handle pretty."
"That's slander."
Shirou leaned in slightly. "Let's also not forget they should be powerful. Helpful. Useful. Not just emotionally damaged and aesthetically pleasing."
Satoshi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You are the most exhausting man I've ever—"
"Married?"
"I hate that you're good at callbacks."
.
The catalog interface glowed faintly in the dim light of the living room, the tablet propped between them on the low coffee table. Satoshi sat cross-legged on the couch, barefoot, a cup of tea steaming beside him. Shirou sat beside him, arms crossed, legs stretched out, looking mildly judgmental as the scroll began.
"Alright," Satoshi muttered, "so we're looking for someone powerful, trustworthy, and emotionally compromised enough to count as a second-chance candidate."
"You make it sound so clinical."
"I've seen this list. You have to be clinical."
The first name that popped up: Vincent Valentine.
"Ex-military," Satoshi explained. "Guns, shapeshifting, trauma. Brooding energy."
Shirou studied the glowing red eyes in the portrait and the thick black cloak. "…He looks like he writes poetry in a coffin."
"He probably does."
"He also looks like he knows how to model."
"Yeah, well, next up is Itachi Uchiha."
Satoshi tapped once, and a new profile loaded. "Assassin. Illusion master. Killed his entire clan—"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"—to stop a coup. Let his little brother hate him to keep him safe. Slow, miserable death from ninja cancer."
Shirou stared at the image. Sharp, onyx eyes. Raven hair. Elegantly cut cloak. "…He's too pretty."
Satoshi blinked. "What?"
"Can't summon him. He's too pretty."
Satoshi rubbed his temple. "We're literally in a waifu catalog. Everyone is pretty."
Shirou's mouth twitched. "That's not the problem."
They continued scrolling.
Gojo Satoru appeared next.
"I'm not even gonna explain him," Satoshi muttered. "You'll just say—"
"He's too pretty."
"—he's too pretty, yeah."
Suguro Geto followed. More tragic smiles and sad eyes. More tailored layers and cheekbones like architecture.
Shirou squinted. "He looks like he'd emotionally manipulate you and then apologize."
"He kind of did something like that," Satoshi muttered, sipping his tea. "But in a sympathetic way."
"No."
Satoshi sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "You're impossible."
Shirou watched him quietly, eyes trailing from the irritated set of his jaw to the faint smile tugging at his lips as he scrolled. This was the problem. He wasn't worried about them being too pretty. He was worried about Satoshi. Satoshi, with his soft voice when talking to Riley. With the way he smiled over tea. With the way he stared at tragic characters like he wanted to hug the sorrow out of them.
Shirou had been here barely a week.
And already… He was developing a crush.
He didn't know when it happened, but it was very much happening. So, no. They weren't summoning a beautiful, emotionally wounded man who might immediately bond with Satoshi over trauma and soft dinners and healing.
"I will incinerate the tablet first," Shirou thought flatly as his fingers tapped against his arm as he watched the list scroll past another set of glowing-eyed angst machines with perfect bone structure.
Finally, he let out a low sigh.
"…Fine," he muttered, conceading. "But if we're going to do this, it should be someone from my world."
Satoshi blinked. "Really?"
"I know how they work. They'd be able to teach you magecraft, even if I can't."
He hesitated, then added—barely audible— "...Better if it's a Berserker or a battle oriented one. They're stronger. Usually more fighting-obsessed than romantic or… flirty."
Satoshi, blissfully oblivious, just nodded. "Okay. That narrows it down."
He paused. Then his brow furrowed in thought. "…Oh! I think I remember one. Ashwatthama. I read about him in some Fate forums and some lore posts. He's an Archer like you, I think?"
Shirou looked over as Satoshi typed. The name came up quickly.
ASHWATTHAMA (T8): Nasuverse - Servants - Archer
Cost: 200 credits
Image: [Helmeted full-body silhouette. No clear face visible.]
Shirou leaned in. "…No face?"
"Guess he's shy," Satoshi said. "Or cursed."
"High price," Shirou murmured.
"Must mean he's strong."
Shirou nodded slowly. "I've heard of him, but never encountered him. I think he was a mythic warrior cursed to wander for eternity."
"Immortal and angry," Satoshi said, skimming. "Something about a forbidden weapon. Never dies, can't rest, burned into history as a warrior who outlived even time."
Shirou studied the glowing silhouette with arrogance and anger in his posture. "…Might not be pretty."
"Probably scarred as hell," Satoshi agreed. "But he's strong. You might get along and respect each other."
Shirou hummed. That, at least, would be tolerable. "I can live with that. Also, give him Paper Trail and Grail Knowledge. If he's going to live here, he needs to blend in."
Satoshi sat on the couch, the tablet glowing in his lap. His finger hovered over the "Confirm Purchase" button on Ashwatthama's profile.
Shirou stood behind the couch, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but he didn't move to stop him.
"…We're doing this?" Satoshi asked quietly, voice low enough not to carry.
"We should," Shirou said. "You got 200 credits. Gray Boy's death paid more than expected because of it's solo Mission. And Crimson earned you extra if only because he was part of the S9. Might as well use it now."
Satoshi nodded, though hesitantly. "Do you think it'll be… immediate?"
"It was with me, wasn't it?" Shirou said, but he didn't sound confident. "Still. Best not to do it in the middle of the day when Riley's watching."
"Yeah." Satoshi smiled faintly. "She doesn't need more surprises right now."
He hesitated. Then tapped the screen.
Confirm Order – ASHWATTHAMA (T8) – 200 Credits
Order submitted. Thank you for choosing Waifu Catalog International. Your Companion is now in queue. Please be patient—arrival time may vary based on interdimensional restrictions, route congestion, and metaphysical alignment.
There was a small chime. Then nothing.
"…Huh." Satoshi blinked. "That's… anticlimactic."
Shirou leaned over slightly, squinting at the screen. "They're putting a summon in a queue?"
"Yeah. It says it might take a few days."
He looked up at Shirou, who was now scowling faintly at the tablet like it had personally offended him.
Satoshi rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess summoning a demigod with millennia of unresolved rage takes… paperwork?"
Shirou snorted—barely. "Figures. The Company's omnipotent but bureaucratic."
They both fell silent for a moment.
"Still," Satoshi murmured, closing the tablet, "I'm kind of glad. Gives us time to prepare. And Riley won't wake up to a flaming demigod in her kitchen."
Shirou nodded. "Let's just hope he shows up when we're ready. Not when we're… asleep or mid-shower."
Satoshi chuckled softly. "Yeah. That would be awkward."
Another silence passed—this one more companionable.
"…Thank you, by the way," Satoshi said, glancing back. "For backing me up. With Riley. With the Nine. Even now."
Shirou didn't answer right away. Then, "I'll protect you both."
"Thank you."
The room was quiet again—peaceful, for once. And though the world outside was still dangerous and broken, for the moment, their small corner of it felt… safe.
.
I'm tired af
Work had been hard lately with not many of us workers and more clients coming. My sister, the one I live with, has gone on a month long trip to our home country and I have to take care of her cat (name: Snoopy), so yeah, this has not been my month, at all.
I tried to write when I could but... well, I've not been really succesful. Let's hope September is easier on me now that my sister returns in two days and I don't have to take care of everything.