[Kenji Sato (MC) POV]
"Master! Master, speak to me!"
Jeanne's panicked voice cut through the ringing in my ears like a silver bell. My eyes fluttered open, the cold, gray sky of the cemetery replacing the blinding golden void. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my torso, bracing my weight against her chest while Nobunaga stood over us.
Arthur was kneeling right beside us, reaching out with both hands. "Kenji! Hold on, I will stabilize your —"
"I'm fine. I'm fine, seriously," I rasped, putting a hand against the cold stone of a tomb to push myself upright.
I wiped cold sweat from my forehead, my heart still racing from the sheer absurdity of meeting my biblically accurate future self, followed immediately by the existential terror of that memory in the flowers.
I looked up at Arthur. The sight of his princely face made a knot of pure panic twist in my gut.
I took a breath, turning my head toward the two women. "Can you give me a sec?"
Jeanne looked like she wanted to glue herself to my ribs, her pale eyes searching my face for lingering corruption, but seeing the dead-serious look in my eyes, she reluctantly nodded. "Of course, Master. We will stand watch."
"Don't take all day, Master!" Nobu called out casually, twirling her katana before resting it against her shoulder.
Without a word, I grabbed Arthur by the sleeve of his jacket and dragged him roughly past a row of mossy crypts, entirely out of earshot. Once we were shielded behind the thick trunk of a weeping cypress, I shoved him back against the bark.
It was like trying to shove a concrete pillar, but Arthur obligingly leaned against the wood, looking at me with wide bewildered eyes.
.
"Arthur," I said, leaning in close, my voice dropping into a whisper. "We are so FUCKED."
Arthur blinked, caught completely off guard. "Why? What did you see?"
"When I touched that black sludge, my consciousness got yanked into some kind of psychic feedback loop," I hissed, gesturing frantically with both hands. "I was in an endless field of blue flowers. And out of nowhere, this little blonde girl in a white dress literally tackled me, hugged the life out of me, and called me Arthur."
Arthur went completely rigid.
"She called me Arthur!" I continued, pointing a trembling finger at my own face. "Look at me! My eyes are gold, not green! My skin is visibly paler than yours! And yet, she looked at me with this terrifying, starry-eyed cosmic devotion like I was her whole damn universe!"
All the warmth and easygoing charm drained from Arthur's face. His jaw set into a grim, hard line, his emerald eyes clouding with an old, suffocating shadow. He looked down at the dead leaves, his broad shoulders tensing as if carrying an invisible boulder.
"...Manaka," Arthur murmured, his voice hollow.
"Yeah. Manaka Sajyou," I said grimly.
Arthur closed his eyes, letting out a slow, trembling breath. "I had hoped... I had prayed that her consciousness was scattered to the winds when her ritual collapsed. In my past, she was my Master. She looked at me not as a hero or a servant, but as a prince from a fairy tale. Her love for me was boundless, absolute... and completely devoid of human morality. To grant what she believed was my deepest wish, she fed innocents to the shadows, awoke Beast VI, and sought to drown Tokyo in blood."
He paused, his hand gripping the rough bark of the tree until the wood creaked under his Servant-tier strength. A deep, agonizing guilt bled into his expression, his breath hitching in his throat.
"In the end... to stop the calamity... I had to..."
Arthur choked on the words, unable to voice the memory of driving his holy sword through the back of a little girl who loved him. He stopped right there, shaking his head slowly, refusing to speak another syllable of that dark chapter.
I didn't push him. I already knew how the story ended.
"Alright," I said softly, giving his shoulder a firm, grounding squeeze. "That's enough. You don't have to keep going."
Arthur opened his eyes, flashing a tired, grateful smile before schooling his features back into the composed mask of the King of Knights.
We walked back around the crypts to where Jeanne and Nobunaga were waiting. Jeanne immediately closed the distance, her gaze darting between us before settling protectively at my side.
"Everything settled, Master?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah. Just needed to clear some tactical details with Big Bro," I said, offering her a reassuring nod. I turned back toward Arthur.
"Arthur, you should head back to the mansion. Sakura's still recovering, Kariya needs to keep his head on straight, and having you there gives our home base an iron wall. Jeanne, Nobu, and I might as well stick around the city, scout the perimeter, and get a better layout of the town."
Nobu gave a boisterous grin, cracking her knuckles. "Now that sounds like a plan! Time to see if any local warlords have the guts to challenge the Demon King!"
Arthur looked at the three of us, considering the strategy, before giving a firm nod. "Understood. I will guard the estate and ensure no harm comes to the child or the alliance. Take care of yourself out there, Kenji."
He turned on his heel, taking three long strides through the rusted cemetery gates toward the winding road.
Just as the tree branches began to swallow his silhouette, Arthur abruptly halted, looking back over his shoulder.
"Kenji."
I stopped near the rusted cemetery gates, turning back to look at him. "What's up, Arthur?"
The King of Knights stood beneath the shadow of the cypress trees. The usual lighthearted, teasing warmth in his face was gone, replaced by a quiet, solemn gravity.
"When you return... I want to teach you swordsmanship," Arthur said softly, his emerald eyes holding mine. "Not as a game, and not merely as a hobby between brothers. As a means of self-defense. A final stand."
I tilted my head, catching the somber undertone in his voice. "A final stand?"
Arthur stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear. "You must understand the nature of this conflict, Kenji. When the Holy Grail War reaches its conclusion and the Grail is dealt with, the spiritual ley lines will collapse the summoning ritual. Servants summoned to this war—Jeanne, Nobunaga—will naturally return to the Throne of Heroes. Their time here is finite."
A cold stillness settled over my chest.
"I am different," Arthur continued, a faint, melancholic smile touching his lips. "I am not anchored by this Grail. My mission will not be finished until every remnant of the Beast and the foul corruption in this land is completely eradicated. I will remain as long as that hunt demands. But even then... a day will come when you must stand on your own two feet, without Heroic Spirits shielding you. If that day arrives, I want to know you can defend your life with cold steel."
The sheer sincerity behind his words hit me right in the gut. He wasn't just being an overbearing big brother; he was looking ahead to the moment the dust settled and the safety nets were gone.
I gave him a faint, appreciative smirk, nodding firmly. "That's... thanks, Big Bro. Don't worry, I won't let you slack off. I'm definitely going to hold you to that."
Arthur's face brightened, relieved that I had taken the lesson to heart. "Good. Stay vigilant while you scout."
With a final nod, the King of Knights turned and bounded down the hillside road, his silhouette disappearing swiftly through the winding trees as he hurried back to safeguard Sakura and the estate.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Jeanne stepped forward. She crossed her arms under her chest, her chin lifted with a competitive, determined gleam in her pale eyes.
"Master," Jeanne spoke up, her voice smooth and purposeful. "If Saber intends to instruct you in the blade, then I must insist on teaching you the lance. A proper warrior should never be confined to a single weapon."
I couldn't help but smile at her immediate urge to match Arthur's protective instincts. "Deal."
Jeanne's chest puffed out, thoroughly pleased with my answer.
Seeing an opportunity to round out my entire combat spread, I turned my attention to the red-caped warlord strolling beside us. "Hey, Nobu. While we're putting together a martial arts curriculum... think you could teach me how to shoot? Marksmanship, firearm maintenance, modern guns, all of that?"
Nobunaga froze, then threw her head back, her booming laugh echoing off the hillside and scattering crows from the power lines.
"Gahahahaha! You want to learn the art of total, overwhelming battlefield firepower from the Demon King of the Sixth Heaven herself?!" She flashed a wicked, razor-sharp grin, thumbing the edge of her military hat. "You've got a fantastic eye for modern destruction, Master! Stick with me, and I'll have you commanding volley fire and blowing through enemy lines before the week is out!"
"Looking forward to it," I said with a laugh.
The three of us made our way down the sloping road, leaving the secluded cemetery behind as the quiet trees gradually gave way to the paved sidewalks and storefronts of the lower district.
As we walked, my thoughts drifted away from training and toward the grim realities of the Fourth War roster.
If Tokiomi, Kariya, Kiritsugu, and Kayneth were active, then there was one unspeakable nightmare somewhere in this city.
Gilles de Rais.
Where the hell had that monster set up shop? In the canon timeline, Caster's workshop had been an abattoir of murdered children, an atrocity born of pure delusion and sadism. I kept the thought entirely locked inside my own head. I couldn't bring up Gilles—not in front of Jeanne.
Then, the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up.
A sharp, greasy throb slammed into my temples.
My [Danger Sense] flared violently.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Jeanne immediately paused beside me, her eyes darting to my face. "Master?"
I didn't answer. Slowly, deliberately, I turned around and looked across the street.
Leaning casually against a pedestrian railing near the edge of a public park was a young man. He wore an oversized, sloppy jacket, his messy, bright-orange hair catching the late afternoon light. His eyes were wide, vacant, and completely devoid of humanity—like two rotting glass beads set into pale skin. He was humming a cheerful, tuneless little melody to himself.
Ryuunosuke Uryuu...Gilles de Rais's Master.
Every muscle in my body pulled taut as a freezing, suffocating wrath settled over my mind.
'I was going to kill him right where he stood.'