Oh boy... 22k words = 2 chapters. Hah...
Beta read and Co-written by Paragon of Awesomeness, Maglad, Shigiya and Gamercrusher55
Warning: LEMON!
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-Kuoh-
Heroic Spirits were not a simple form of existence that could just be recreated, altered, changed, or interfered with, even by the smallest of degrees, by just any mage. It would take a mage of tremendous power to make even the slightest alterations to a Servant's core, the Saint Graph, otherwise known as a Spirit Origin.
In a way, the body of a Servant was nothing more than a vessel built outwardly from their Saint Graph to contain the power of the Heroic Spirit found within themselves. Recreating the appearance of the exact timeline, mindset, or internal desires that they had in life, along with their powers and Noble Phantasm. Not only that, but in most cases, it gave the Heroic Spirit a body that they defined as what their prime would be.
A single Servant required a ridiculous amount of energy, not just to create a body made of magical energy, but also to sustain its continued existence. Something that, without a support system like the Holy Grail aiding in the cost of summoning them, could have easily caused most Masters to die from being sucked dry of all energy.
So in layman's terms, Servant bodies required a ton of energy to even sustain, much less heal, given they were just condensed energy shaped into a human body.
"BOOST!"
The emerald glow of the Longinus-class Sacred Gear filled the room for a brief moment, as every member of the Gremory peerage gathered in silence, watching the young brown-haired Pawn concentrate as he stockpiled several Boosts on top of each other over and over.
"BOOST!"
The Heavenly Dragon's voice echoed again, visible strain on the boy's face betraying how much difficulty he was having in performing this many consecutive Boosts, yet he kept going.
"How many does that make now?" Kiyome asked, worriedly looking both at Issei and Archer, who had taken a seat next to his Master.
"That was his tenth," Rias answered.
Archer's shirt had been taken off, leaving his upper body without any clothes, showcasing his chiseled physique. But this also displayed the two biggest wounds that hadn't completely healed from his four-way battle against two enemy Servants and a berserk Dragon King.
First was the one in his stomach, originally a gaping hole that Berserker had run his fist through. The wound itself had long since been closed, but it was still a ways off from being fully healed as there was still an enormous patch of his skin missing with several red muscles clearly visible, and some of Archer's movements remained stiff.
The second and far more eye-catching injury though, was the stump that was his right arm, the sight being somewhat grotesque enough to make a few members of the peerage feel uncomfortable and avert their gazes.
"So you are flesh and blood underneath after all." There were other people gathered inside the club room, specifically the exorcist duo of Irina and Xenovia, who had arrived moments earlier, intending to discuss some important matters, only to grow curious at what was going on right now. They were shocked at his appearance and tagged along as spectators.
"It is not as bad as it seems. We Servants have a core; as long as that core is not damaged, then I will heal fully once given enough magical energy. With all the help I'm getting, it will probably be all over in another day or two. In fact, even with no additional help by the end of this day, the wound on my stomach won't be a factor any longer." He said in a matter of fact tone tone that was in stark contrast to the appearance of his wounds.
He had initially believed that it would be better to approach the exorcists when he was fully healed, but his idea was immediately turned down as everyone else was clearly far more worried about him than he was himself, and didn't care what others saw in the meantime, while they all focused on him. He knew that they were just overreacting, but given that this was their first experience seeing an allied Servant injured, he could understand why they wanted to fix things and heal him up, despite him saying that he was fine.
"Still, it's flesh and blood. Regardless of how it came into existence, why hasn't Twilight Healing worked on you?" Irina asked curiously, looking over at Asia, whose face was filled with shame and watery eyes threatening to cry at any moment.
"Uuaaah…'Sniff'… I-I tried to heal him, but it was barely doing anything, even after an hour. Eventually, I just got exhausted without making any major progress. I've never had this kind of difficulty healing someone before."
"Stop crying. You don't need to feel bad about this, you did help my healing to some degree, which is still progress," the Servant said, genuinely feeling bad seeing Asia's face, and so he patted her head for doing what she could.
Given that he had seen firsthand just how determined she was, even to the point of forcing down several potions one after another to restore her stamina and keep her healing magic going, he felt she had more than earned his respect. Still, he had to be careful. Dedication was one thing, but pushing herself too far over something that might not even work was another. He let out a small breath before speaking, making sure his words carried weight without sounding harsh.
"As for why it did not work, I cannot say with certainty. But if I had to make an educated guess, it is most likely because of my nature as a Servant. While this body may be flesh and blood, just as you said, it is not truly the same as that of a human. It is formed from an enormous amount of condensed magical energy, the kind that in my world usually takes years to gather through a ritual involving the Holy Grail. Asia was able to heal me, but the output of a Sacred Gear was not enough to handle the scale of energy that makes up this vessel. Had I been a normal human being, or perhaps if the wound had been less severe, her ability would have worked normally on me. Though it's also possible she just isn't used to healing Servant wounds or lost limbs yet."
"That is why now we're trying another approach, by using Issei's new ability to transfer energy to see if it would make any difference." Akeno continued from her seat across the room, her voice steady while her hand gently stroked Koneko's hair. At some point, the white-haired girl had drifted off and was now resting over her lap, fast asleep. Akeno's tone held its usual elegance, but there was a hint of curiosity beneath it. "Our reasoning was simple enough. If his body is made up of such an immense amount of magical energy, then transferring additional energy directly into him could serve as a substitute for a healing spell, perhaps assisting his regeneration."
"BOOST!"
The gem shone with another pulse of green light as the dragon's voice echoed.
"Wow, eleven times, that's a new record. Can you keep going, or is this where we should have you draw the line, Issei? There is no need to push yourself too hard. Honestly, what you have gathered already is impressive in its own right." Rias spoke with a mix of concern and pride. While she worried for her Servant's condition, she was nearly just as troubled for her Pawn. Issei had grown pale, and sweat clung to his forehead, yet he still stood firm.
"It's alright, Buchou! I've been secretly training on my own, and I made sure I could push beyond this if I had to. Even if it is to help this guy recover, I still owe him this much. So don't make a big deal out of it!" he replied with his usual stubborn grin, jabbing a finger toward Archer. The Servant only chuckled at his words.
"When did you turn into a tsundere?"
"And when did you even learn what that word means?" Issei shot back in surprise.
"I may be a Heroic Spirit, but that does not mean I am ignorant of the modern world. I am aware of the things you often see in your manga and anime, especially since I live with Rias," Archer said with a faint smirk, before shifting his gaze toward Xenovia and Irina. At some point, both exorcists had moved closer, watching him as if he were a specimen under study. Their eyes were fixed on him with such focus that he half-considered letting them keep staring just to see how long they would go on, though the silence was beginning to feel awkward.
"By the way, I checked the fridge at her house earlier. How in the world did you two manage to finish off enough food meant to feed four people for at least half a month? We weren't even gone a week," he asked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and irritation. It was no exaggeration. His Master had stored the ingredients carefully in multiple cold storage containers, all stocked so that the two exorcists would not possibly lack provisions during their stay, while hopefully allowing them to come back home with everything they needed to enjoy a nice home-cooked meal. And yet somehow, almost all of it was now gone, as though he had been feeding stray kittens with bottomless stomachs.
"Don't look at me, Xenovia was the one who ate most of it! Just look at these love handles on her. They weren't there last week—" Irina began, only to have her words cut off by a sharp knee strike to the gut. She crumpled with a groan, and Xenovia's face turned slightly red, giving away her embarrassment despite her usual composure.
"It… the food was exquisitely made. At first, we tried to ration it, but later we figured leaving so much to go stale might… not be polite. Besides, we needed lots of energy to train, so I made the sacrifices," Xenovia muttered, still a bit flustered but unwilling to admit outright that she had overindulged.
"You have a strange definition for sacrifice," Archer said, raising a brow. "But I won't argue with you on that. Hunger is the enemy, as someone wise once said."
To that, Xenovia nodded emphatically, latching onto the words as both sage advice and an excuse for her gluttonous behavior before he asked something else. "So while we were gone, how have things been on your side?"
After the death of Kokabiel and the uneasy agreement that followed, his mind was not occupied by the fragments of Excalibur these two had been sent to retrieve, nor even by the presence of Fallen Angels within the city. What troubled him most was the likely reaction of the Church. Xenovia and Irina had insisted again and again that after the complete destruction of the fragments, their mission was to find and eliminate the Servant Assassin that had aided Kokabiel and Valper, yet he knew better than to take their words at face value. He had to wonder if there was yet another goal in play. Hunting an enemy like Assassin was too broad, too far-fetched to be a primary objective, especially after she so easily captured these two.
The matter of the so-called Excalibur fragments now being impossible to recover, however, was another story for their superiors.
"Suffice to say, the higher-ups were not satisfied with the results," Xenovia finally admitted.
"Why am I not surprised? If I were in their position and had lost permanent claim to weapons of that caliber and the prestige that came with them, I would not take it kindly either," he replied, his voice calm but edged with dry understanding.
That answer, however, did not quite match Xenovia's expression, which looked more like resignation than acceptance. The blue-haired holy sword wielder shook her head before explaining. "They were angered, yes, but one of our standing orders was to destroy the swords should we fail to claim them. Many accepted the outcome as an acceptable parameter for the mission. The complaints mostly come from a rather vocal minority, the type that prefers to speak rather than listen. For now, the Vatican has allowed us to continue the mission of pursuing Assassin."
Archer gestured for her to go on. He had read the determination in her face and knew that any attempt to dissuade her would have been a wasted effort. No matter how sure he was they'd only be going to their own death.
"Beyond that," she continued, "our progress here has been viewed largely positively. We were even granted a bonus this month, in the form of extra resources for repairing the church."
"You didn't waste nearly ninety percent of those funds on frivolous things like getting scammed with another forged painting of a saint, right?" he asked with a raised brow, recalling the ridiculous scene of finding them slumped in front of the church, desperate for donations.
"Don't blame me for that!" Xenovia's voice rose with embarrassment. She immediately pointed toward Irina. "She's the one who bought the stupid painting! If you've lived with her long enough, you'd know she'd even buy a so-called signed self-portrait of Jesus if some random street vendor claimed it was authentic!"
"What!? Now you're making me sound like an idiot!" Irina shouted back, her cheeks coloring.
"Because you are!" Xenovia fired back without hesitation.
Their squabbling erupted like clockwork, volleying insults and denials with the same rhythm as always. It went on until Rias, who had been growing visibly irritated, slammed her hand down on the table. The sharp sound silenced the entire room, her sapphire-blue eyes narrowing.
"If you two want to argue like children, then take it outside! We are in the middle of something important, and I would very much prefer you not shatter my Pawn's focus while he is in the middle of powering up to help Archer."
"BOOST!"
On cue, another surge echoed from the crimson gauntlet on Issei's arm. He winced at the strain, his body trembling faintly under the effort. "Buchou, I think this is it, I don't think I can go past this!" he admitted, his words carrying both frustration and strain from holding so much magic.
The room tightened with unease, everyone present shifting slightly as they awaited the outcome.
"Are you certain this is safe? Not only for you, but for Archer as well?" Yuuto asked from his place, his eyes locked firmly on the two, prepared to intervene the instant something went wrong.
"I don't know. This is the first time I've tried this," Issei admitted, his voice unsteady yet resolved. "Let's just try. Ddraig said it should work… At least that's what he said in my dreams."
The explanation sounded almost absurd. A dragon appearing in one's dream and claiming that transferring repeated charges of power into another person was safe was not something Archer had ever expected to hear in his life. Then again, by now, after all he had seen since being caught in this strange union of worlds, surprises had become a daily occurrence. He no longer had the luxury of doubting every strange development. What mattered was whether they could make it work.
The idea itself had merit. Even if Issei chose to channel that energy into his Master rather than himself, it would not suddenly provide more than the normal allowance she was already giving him, only increase her total pool. The connection between Servant and Master was only a steady flow — just enough to sustain his existence and, when needed, to draw upon extra reserves during combat. However, it was not something that could hasten his natural recovery beyond its current limits. Not without special rituals meant to provide an additional means of transferring the energy, but those could be rather complicated.
"Alright then, here I go. If this works, you owe me a favor, you bastard!" With a sharp roar, Issei pressed his armored hand onto Archer's shoulder.
"TRANSFER!"
The dragon's voice boomed, the Sacred Gear pulsing with a radiant emerald glow. The energy rushed through the gauntlet and into the Servant's body. Archer's eyes widened instantly, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of the flow.
"Hoh?" Archer stared at his hand, which was now faintly coated with the shimmering green aura that had just been emanating from Issei, lingering as it seeped into his form. "Impressive. With this much energy, unleashing my Noble Phantasm would be child's play. Not at the level of it being empowered by a Command Seal, but it is close."
"Look, it's working!" Gasper cried, pointing eagerly toward Archer's stomach. Right before their eyes, the raw, torn skin knit itself together, the wound's signs vanishing until there was not a trace left. The skin was smooth, without even the faintest scar. His severed arm even showed signs of regrowth, though the progress stopped around halfway up the forearm, halting before it could fully regenerate.
"What the hell!? That's it?" Issei's frustration boiled over. "I Boosted myself to be…" he fished out his phone, and began typing on the calculator app. "Four-thousand-ninety-six times more powerful and gave it all to him, just to make his abs pristine again and grow back half his arm!?"
He had expected more, and his voice cracked with indignation. After all the effort he had poured into storing such a ridiculous number of Boosts, the result felt pitifully insignificant. His shirt clung to him, drenched with sweat. His face had gone pale, his chest rising and falling as though he had just sprinted for miles.
"Why are you disappointed?" Archer, head tilting almost languidly, delivered the question without a hint of complaint or sympathy. His words were almost offhand, but there was a certain weight behind them, like a stone dropped quietly into water. "You realize what you accomplished just now is something most Masters could never even dream of achieving. Healing wounds of this severity, even to this degree, so quickly is something that, under ordinary circumstances, would demand the use of a Command Seal or several intensive mana transfers. Yet, you managed to produce nearly the same effect with nothing but a handful of Boosts. That isn't something you should belittle, Issei. Take pride in it. Even in my world, feats like this are rare."
The blunt praise seemed to shock Issei—and everyone else, for that matter. His lips parted as if to respond, but for a moment, nothing came; he simply stared, mind skittering uselessly for a response.
"What? Are you actually serious? It barely feels like I did anything at all. I was aiming to heal you completely, not just patch up a few wounds…"
Archer allowed himself a faint smile. For all the boy's quirks—his shameless perversion, his jealousy, his tendency to blurt out things with little to no forethought—there was no malice in him. The sincerity in his eyes was clear enough. His heart was worn openly on his sleeve, though to an excessive amount if one asked the young women in the school, and that honesty left little room for doubt.
"If we were caught in the middle of a battle against other Servants, what you just managed could mean the difference between victory and death. That is no small thing. You've done well here today, and you're only going to get stronger from here on."
The more Archer explained, the more embarrassed Issei became. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks heating as he turned his head away, unwilling to meet the Servant's gaze directly. "Hehehe… you're making it sound more impressive than it really was. Quit it, you're embarrassing me."
Koneko, who had stirred awake at some point, watched his flustered expression carefully. Her golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly before she spoke in a quiet but clear voice that everyone in the room could hear. "Issei-senpai likes that he got praised by Shirou nii-sama."
The words hit the boy harder than the effort of transferring his energy had. Issei stiffened, his body jerking as the meaning sank in. His face drained of color before quickly flushing crimson, though this time the sudden shift in bloodflow came from indignation rather than embarrassment.
"What the hell!?" he shouted, stumbling back a step with genuine horror. His finger shot out toward Archer, his voice cracking as he tried to defend himself. "I was only trying to help you, damn it! Don't get the wrong idea! I'm a man, and that's what men do when they're lending a hand to those they owe something towards! I like girls, I like big boobs! Why the hell would I act that way toward him!? Stop saying weird stuff, Koneko, you're ruining the moment!"
Kiyome rolled her eyes. "Are you going to react this way to any comment about a wholesome interaction with another male? If that's the case, even girls who know the surrounding circumstances will have suspicions."
"But… I… t-that's!"
Issei ended his rant with a miserable groan and sat down, shoulders sagging as though the weight of his own outburst had worn him down. Yuuto patted him reassuringly on the back, while an unimpressed Koneko merely shrugged her shoulders. Her expression did not change; her silence was answered enough: Man up and deal with it.
"Putting aside my cute peers playing around, Archer, how are you feeling?" Rias asked, her voice steady but edged with curiosity. She sat with Gasper, and the others gathered close, their eyes fixed on the man before them. Each of them wanted to know whether the strange transfer had left behind any consequences.
Archer gave his body a casual roll of the shoulders, then he stretched his abdomen as though testing its flexibility. He let his motions settle down and let out a sigh, finding no trace of discomfort.
"I'm basically back in near top shape, aside from my hand, but that should be regrown in full by tomorrow at the latest. Should be good enough for me to head into class today with nothing but a bit of plaster in place to hide the missing hand."
"You're still thinking about your job as a teacher? Right now?" Akeno's voice rose with genuine disbelief, her eyes narrowing as though she couldn't comprehend his priorities. Around her, the others nodded their agreement, each sharing the same view. "Your identity as a teacher was arranged mostly out of convenience, just to help you blend in at the school rather than make you linger around in your spirit form. It isn't something you need to take so seriously."
Even as she spoke, the Servant tilted his head, lips curving in a knowing smirk. He clearly anticipated what their reactions would be; his amusement only deepened as the silence stretched. "If this were any ordinary day, I might have agreed with you and taken a day or two for myself. But you're forgetting what today actually is."
His grin widened, catching more than one confused look. For a heartbeat, the room was filled with uncertainty, until realization struck. Several faces stiffened, the color draining from their faces as dread dawned upon them. The redhead at the center of the group was easily the palest, with traces of sweat forming on her brow. Horror gave way to indignant anger as she glared at him sharply, her expression caught between exasperation and warning.
"You didn't…"
"I indeed did not, but the fact remains that they know, and we have to play the cards we're dealt. I'm sorry, Master," Archer replied, his tone light but deliberate, "but someone has to be in class to welcome your family for class observation day. You'd better put on your best performance, because I won't go easy on you just because of who you are. Your family may just have me fired if they feel I'm not giving you the best education possible."
The words landed with weight, and before anyone could retort, he allowed his body to fade into spirit form. One last wave accompanied his departure, leaving behind the echo of his Master's furious voice ringing across the room.
"No wait, we're not done! Come back here, Archer!"
{Break}
(Early morning)
Less than an hour later, the school was alive with the usual rhythm of morning routines, yet the atmosphere carried a sharper tone than usual. Archer, walking along the main corridor, could sense the subtle shift at once. Students now moved about with more restraint, whispering in hushed tones, adjusting uniforms, checking their reflections against glass panes. With their parents expected to arrive at any moment, everyone seemed determined to avoid embarrassment not only in front of peers but before family as well.
As Archer neared his classroom, a familiar figure intercepted him. The history teacher, an older man he recalled once trying his hand at flirting with Rider, stepped out from the opposite hall. The teacher's middle-aged face stretched into surprise, eyes instantly falling to the thick plaster that Archer had wrapped around his right forearm to hide the missing hand.
"Oh, what happened to you, Toujou-sensei?" the man asked, his brows rising as he took in the sight. "Did you have an accident? Is that why you were gone from your classes these past few days?"
Archer offered a mild shrug, his voice composed. "Yes. Just an unfortunate mishap on my part. It looks worse than it actually is. It won't keep me from teaching as usual. Though I imagine the students will have their fair share of questions when they see me."
"Hahaha! That's exactly how they are," the older man chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. "They'll badger you endlessly if you let them. Best to ignore half of what they say. Still, with their parents present today, I doubt you'll have too much trouble. Even my most troublesome lot are behaving like saints today. My class has never been this quiet. I suppose the fear of family watching over their shoulders has done what lectures never could."
"Yeah, I'm expecting a more easy day. I'll probably be healed up come tomorrow."
"That is good to hear." The words left the man's lips, tone as smooth as before; yet, this time, he inclined in ever so slightly, closing the distance with an air of quiet intent. "Forgive me for being direct, but…" He paused, as if letting the thought linger between them, his gaze mildly searching. "There's a rumour going around that you're close to Teras-sensei. I was wondering if that happens to be true?"
His cheerful expression shifted as he asked the question, and the sudden change made Archer resist the urge to roll his eyes. He already knew the whispers that drifted around the staffrooms and hallways, but it still caught him off guard that this man was bold enough to bring it up with him directly so early in the day. Everyone had been curious about Rider, some openly, others in the form of subtle glances and quiet questions. It wasn't unusual, considering her striking appearance, but Archer still found the persistence tiring.
"You've been caught in the rumor mill, too, huh. While I will say I'm probably closer to her than most of the staff, I can confidently say many of the things the students are spreading around about the two of us are quite exaggerated," Archer answered, keeping his tone calm but firm. "We do get along well, but it is more in the sense of mutually respected acquaintances or colleagues — friends, if you want to go that far. Besides, as far as I'm aware, relationships between teachers are strictly prohibited here. I'd rather not get on the bad side of certain people." He gave the man a knowing look, one that said more than the words he allowed himself to speak. There was plenty he could add, but he decided to remain in his lane.
The man chuckled nervously, lifting his hands slightly as if to show he meant no harm. "O-oh, of course, I know that. I was only asking out of curiosity. It's not what you're imagining, I swear, nothing of that nature at all. Hahaha… It's just, well… you both are so young, and very popular among the students. Y-you know how teenagers with too much time on their hands tend to think, then it's easy for them to assume, a-and start gossiping, and…"
His voice trailed off as he struggled to finish the thought. His stutter and the way his eyes darted away said far more than his words did. Archer gave him a short nod of reassurance, dismissing the matter with a simple gesture before continuing on his way. He was fairly certain he felt the weight of a glare burning into his back as he walked off, but there was little he could do about it besides sigh. He only hoped this would not turn into another drawn-out nuisance where other staff members saw him as a rival for Rider's attention.
Reaching the classroom, Archer grasped the door handle and stepped inside. The lively chatter of students halted in an instant, and silence settled over the room as heads turned toward him. Ignoring their stares, he moved across the room with the ease of routine and set his belongings on his desk.
"Alright, class," he began, his voice steady and carrying across the room. "Since I have been absent for the past few days, we have quite a lot to catch up on. I hope none of you neglected the assignments I left you with all your available free time. If anyone hasn't done theirs, then do not come crying to me when you face the consequences."
"What the hell happened to you, Sensei!?" Aika burst out, her voice loud enough to make Kiyome beside her wince. The rest of the students had similar questions on their minds, but stayed quiet and kept their eyes on him, waiting for an answer.
Archer raised his bandaged arm slightly. "Oh, this? I just fell off my chair."
"You… fell off a chair?" Aika repeated, disbelief lacing her words as if she could hardly accept the excuse.
"A dangerous chair," he replied smoothly. "I wasn't paying attention. It's not even really broken though. I'll have this off by tomorrow. Still, that's why you shouldn't balance yourself on the back legs of those seats during class; you might get hurt."
"You expect us to believe you hurt your arm badly enough to need a full cast just from falling from a chair?" she pressed, eyebrows raised. "It would have made more sense to just say you fell down some stairs! Are you messing with us!?"
"Yes," Archer said flatly, his tone laced with sarcasm. "My arm was injured because a bratty little yet deceptively strong tomboy and then a deranged man just about ripped it off."
The dry delivery earned him a few unamused stares from around the classroom. He only shrugged, just a faint movement. "Well, if my first attempt at an explanation doesn't meet your rigorous standards, then you're all welcome to ponder what else I could possibly say on the subject. Though I believe all of you know fully what day it is, correct?"
The room tensed immediately, students shifting in their seats. Many grew visibly nervous, others embarrassed, and a few even paled slightly. Seeing their reactions, Archer allowed himself the smallest of smirks.
"If none of you wish to be put in the crosshairs by being called to the front of the class to read aloud a passage from one of my favourite books in front of all your parents, then I expect you all to behave properly today."
"Yes, Sensei!" the class answered unanimously, their voices sharp and coordinated, like a platoon of soldiers standing at attention before their drill sergeant.
"Good, but Aika," Archer said, turning his gaze directly on her, "you will in fact be called to read several passages in front of everyone."
"What!? Why!?" she exclaimed, eyes widening.
"Because I have a strong suspicion you didn't complete your assignment," Archer replied evenly. "And do not think I failed to notice you passing that slip of paper to Kiyome just now. I am fairly certain that was a request for her to let you copy from her own work."
Aika clicked her tongue in irritation and ducked her head, unable to refute his words.
"If you don't have the assignment ready to hand in, then you can make up for it by leading today's readings."
Soon, the bell rang, marking the start of classes. Down below at the main entrance, parents who had gathered there began to trickle out to their children's classroom, guided by signs. Some observed patiently while others chatted quietly among themselves or praised their child, all supervised by the watchful eye of the school's staff. Kuoh Academy had arranged a short break for the students after each period, allowing them time to greet their parents, share a few words, and perhaps even offer a brief tour of parts of the campus.
Archer used one of those breaks to step out of the classroom, adjusting his sleeve as he stepped into the hallway. He had barely taken a few steps when a voice called out.
"Excuse me, are you the English teacher, Toujou-sensei, I believe it was?"
He turned, finding himself facing two women. Both looked as though they were in their mid-thirties, one with carefully styled pink hair and the other with long brown hair that shimmered faintly under the hallway lights. Something about them felt oddly familiar, as though he should have recognized them, yet he was certain he had never seen them before.
"Yes, that's me," he replied with a polite nod. "How may I help you two?"
The brunette stepped forward first, speaking with a warm tone. "Oh, we were just both curious to meet the teacher who managed to make our daughters so invested in their studies."
Her companion with the pink hair chimed in eagerly, her eyes bright as she nodded along. "Indeed. For months, I tried convincing my daughter to slow down with her obsession over kendo so she could catch up on her academics, but nothing I said ever worked. Then suddenly, she starts coming home and studying on her own, day after day. It was quite the shock, let me tell you! And from what we both understand, we have you to thank for it."
As Archer listened to their words, the pieces clicked into place in his mind. The mannerisms, the way they spoke about their daughters, the resemblance in their features — it all lined up.
"Ah, I see it now, you two must be Moriyama and Katase's mothers," he said with a small smile.
Both women brightened instantly, exchanging a glance before looking back at him. "Yes, exactly! How did you know?"
"Well, the two of you do look strikingly similar to your daughters. Had we run into each other at the supermarket, I might have mistaken you for their elder sisters," Archer admitted, his smile turning faintly amused.
They laughed at that, with Katase's mother playfully patting his shoulder. "You're quite the smooth talker, young man. I can see now why my daughter keeps talking about you at home. Honestly, I was surprised when I heard the school hired someone as young as you, but from what I'm seeing, you certainly get good results."
"I'm simply glad I can teach here," he replied.
The conversation stretched on, the three of them exchanging words with surprising ease. Archer shared small anecdotes about the girls' behavior in class, moments when they had surprised him, or little remarks they made during lessons. Still, he could tell from the mothers' shifting expressions that their real interest wasn't in those stories. Slowly, their questions began to drift away from their daughters and turn instead toward him. They asked where he came from, how long he had lived in Kuoh, his age, and what he did outside the school.
He answered as politely and professionally as he could while keeping any personal details vague at best, though he began to sense that their curiosity toward him had little to do with the academic progress of their children. Before long, a few other parents had gathered around, joining in with questions of their own. The group grew larger, and the atmosphere started to feel more pressing, their words coming from all sides until it bordered on overwhelming.
"Oh my, is that another teacher?" one of the mothers suddenly remarked, drawing his attention down the hallway.
"She's… beautiful."
Archer turned and had to suppress the urge to chuckle. Rider was walking toward them, dressed in her casual civilian clothes consisting of a black sweater and blue jeans. Her steps were graceful, deliberate, yet her face betrayed something unusual. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she glanced at the parents surrounding him, and the faint tension in her jaw was a clear sign to him that she was irritated.
To most of the parents, her expression probably looked as neutral as the word itself, but Archer could see it plainly. She was not enjoying herself in the slightest.
It wasn't hard to see why. A small group of middle-aged men followed her, all wearing wide, eager smiles as they tried to strike up conversations. Their persistence clung to her like a cloud, each one trying to outdo the other in drawing her attention.
"For the last time," Rider said with a forced politeness, "I am a librarian, not a teacher. It makes no sense to ask me to tutor your sons or daughters. Please, go and speak with the proper teachers about that."
Her tone was firm, but the men either ignored her or pretended not to notice, continuing to crowd her with questions. Relief finally flickered across her face when her eyes met Archer's. Seizing the chance, she stepped toward him, and the men reluctantly gave her some space.
"You seem busy," he remarked, noticing the small but genuine relaxation in her posture now that she was no longer boxed in. At least, with her standing beside him, the crowd seemed inclined to think twice before pressing further into her personal space.
"They appeared out of nowhere. I was having a good time at the library, minding my own business and reading a book, then suddenly one of them walked up to me. He started asking all sorts of questions out of nowhere, even wondering if I was a teacher. I told him no, but he still stayed and kept talking. Not long after, two more joined in, and before I knew it, the place was full of them." Her lips curved into a thin line, frustration plain on her face and voice. She did not bother to soften her tone, as if she wanted him to hear exactly how much it bothered her.
"Well, I'm fairly sure they're just eager to get to know the school's librarian. You'll think of a way to get rid of them nicely."
"If by 'nicely' you mean scaring them a little, then I don't mind doing that. But something tells me that unless I go farther than Sona would be comfortable with, it wouldn't stop them. It might even encourage a few."
"That's unfortunate." He spoke without the faintest concern, watching her with faint amusement. The woman was more than capable of dealing with such a minor nuisance, and seeing her unsettled in this way provided its own entertainment.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" It came out as a statement, not a question. He only nodded, not even trying to deny it.
"Can you really blame me?"
"At least I'll get a front row seat of my own when things get worse for you soon enough."
"What do you mean?" His brow furrowed slightly, eyes narrowing. He was confident that no parents would bother him the way they crowded her. His own space had never been intruded upon in the same manner. Before he could press further, she simply pointed over his shoulder.
Turning to look, he froze. Behind him stood another group, larger than Rider's hanger-ons, including many of the parents who had been speaking to him before she approached him.
They were all women, most of them being mothers of students in his classes, though a few he was fairly certain didn't even have children under his instruction. They had gathered all the same, their attention fixed squarely on him.
"Oh."
"You didn't notice?" she asked dryly.
"I honestly thought they only wanted to discuss their children's performance in my class."
"Pretty sure a couple of them touched up their makeup right before speaking to you."
He took a closer look, and sure enough, she was right.
He let out a small sigh.
"I might have a way to handle this," Rider whispered. "And since you've been through a lot over the last few days already, I'll try not to make things too difficult."
Before he could say anything, the woman leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. Without warning, she pressed her lips against his cheek. The kiss was quick, but what startled him was not the act itself. It was how deliberately tender it felt compared to her usual gestures, a rare softness that left him momentarily off guard.
Meanwhile, the men and women surrounding them all froze at the sight.
"Teras-sensei, is this man your…?" one of the men in the group ventured, voice brittle, uncertain. A few of the women looked as though hope had just quietly, thoroughly, slipped away from them. Yet, there were still some who clung hard to the thinnest excuse that the striking teacher was, in fact, as single as ever.
"We're acquaintances," she replied smoothly. Then her tone shifted as she added, "Very close acquaintances." A beautiful smile spread across her face as she rested her head against his shoulder, her expression leaving little room for doubt. The look she gave them was enough to shatter whatever hope remained.
"Um… I-I should be going. My daughter's next class is about to start," one muttered quickly.
"Oh, I forgot, work is calling for an important project!" another exclaimed.
"Excuse me, where's the nearest bathroom?" a third added hastily.
One after another, they made their excuses, scattering with surprising speed. He barely had time to register the sudden quiet when the sharp sound of a camera flash clicked behind him. Glancing back, he realized most of the crowd had disappeared, but two women still lingered. They stayed behind, watching with amused expressions, clearly entertained by what had just unfolded. Noticing his eyes on them, the pair awkwardly left after saying their goodbyes.
Definitely, Moriyama and Katase were the daughters of those two. Even their mothers' habits were similar, and most likely they were about to spread that newly acquired image as gossip.
"Finally, some peace and quiet," Rider remarked, stretching her arms before letting them fall back to her sides. Her gaze drifted toward the fresh plaster that concealed his injury, studying it with a trace of curiosity. "It looks like it might take another day or two before it heals completely, though I have to admit I'm still surprised you managed to recover enough to even show up here today. That wound in your abdomen was dangerously close to your Spirit Core, wasn't it? Are you absolutely certain your Spirit Origin wasn't damaged during the fight? You were impaled in the stomach, after all."
"Yes, I'm sure," he confirmed. "I've taken worse in many different iterations of the Holy Grail War and kept going, even blows from Heracles or Excalibur."
"This Berserker was no slouch either, from what I understand," she said, her smile slowly dying down. "You said he regained his sanity while he was fighting you. I didn't think that was possible."
"It had to do with the Underworld's environment; the lack of a moon led to Berserker's Mad Enhancement curse subsiding due to it being the origin of that very madness in his legend. Of course, that could just be a guess," he answered, still a bit surprised that it was even possible in the first place, for such a powerful curse to be broken in such a roundabout yet simple way.
"Caligula certainly lived up to his infamy," she acknowledged.
"Indeed. One who can hold the boost from Madness Enhancement while retaining their sense of reason is made all the more dangerous. With his Noble Phantasm to break the minds of his foes and Imperial Privilege granting him a near-endless array of skills, even Command Seals might not have tipped the balance. He was troublesome and strong."
"Not to mention Saber was there as well. It was frankly a miracle in itself that you managed to survive against those two," Rider remarked with a faint smile, her voice calm but edged with amusement. "Somehow, you always do find yourself in such troublesome situations. Yet, no matter how deep the trouble, you always find a way to survive. You really are surprisingly hard to kill."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
She gave a small shrug. "I am curious if Saber will pay us a visit again anytime soon. She owes you a thank you for freeing her from Berserker's Noble Phantasm."
He could not help but hum at that. "Knowing her, it would be better if she just stays away from Kuoh for a long while. And I doubt she will thank me at all. The best I could expect from her would be a non-lethal punch to the face and her screaming that such an incident won't happen twice. Manners are not her strong suit."
The purple-haired woman cast him an amused glance from the corner of her eye. "Now you sound like a disapproving father dealing with a rebellious teenager."
"I don't agree with the first part, but for the second one… she is basically that. But one with the strength and fury of a Berserker, the agility of a Rider, and the mana reserves of a Caster. A dangerous combination. Especially when you remember that her last fit of rebelliousness brought down one of the most legendary kingdoms in all of history."
"I'm sure you'll manage. Troublesome women or those quick to anger tend to be your specialty. Shirou is doing quite well with Rin and others he encountered recently… much to the dismay of Sakura, as some did try to kill him at first."
His mind lingered on that, and he stared absently down at the lower floor where many people were conversing. Parents would soon resume their visits to their children's classes. "He can only blame himself for that. It has nothing to do with me," he murmured.
"Technically, I am still there with them even right now. So rest assured, I won't let things get that far," Rider reminded him in a low voice.
"I know." He leaned back slightly on the wall, his arms crossed. "And I know you'll protect her with your life."
Her soft chuckle followed. "Not going to ask if I would lay down my life for Shirou as well?"
He snorted, unimpressed. "If he cannot protect himself, then he has no right to protect anyone else."
"You're being far too hard on yourself," she countered, the faintest smile tugging at her lips.
Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes at her, twitching at what he'd just heard. "Seriously?"
"What, you think the sentiment isn't applicable here? I say it is," she said, clearly entertained by her own remark. "I am sure all three of them are doing well now. Rin is also there to help. Shirou is far too smitten by Sakura to let her get hurt that easily, and I am there to make sure he does not accidentally kill himself… again."
"Speaking of which," he said, wanting to shift the subject, "shouldn't you be with Sona right now? I imagine during times like this, she's more than busy trying to keep things in order."
"Trust me," she began. Though he felt that as soon as her current Master had been brought up, she suddenly seemed a bit… dodgy? Maybe he was overthinking it, "She has bigger things to worry about than a few parents and students making trouble."
That caught him off guard. Knowing Sona, he would have expected her to be running the school like a prison warden, ensuring every corner was spotless and every student perfectly disciplined. It was easy to imagine her prowling the hallways with laser focus, ready to harshly correct the slightest misstep. For Rider to suggest that the draconian student council president was caught up in something far more pressing was almost unthinkable. He tried to picture what could possibly pull Sona Sitri away from her obsession with rules and order, but nothing came readily to mind.
"And personally," Rider added, "I would prefer not to be around her for the time being."
His brow furrowed. "What?"
He gave her a puzzled look, watching her with suspicion, but before he could push for an explanation, the answer presented itself.
From the far end of the hallway, a familiar voice rang out with both desperation and relief. "There you are! I was searching everywhere for you!"
Both he and Rider turned to see Sona hurrying toward them. She looked completely disheveled, her usually composed self replaced by someone teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Her normally immaculate hair was frazzled, as though she'd been gripping her scalp. Sona's eyes locked onto Rider, and in them was not relief, but betrayal, as if the woman before her had abandoned her in her greatest hour of need.
"Oh my, student council president," Rider greeted with what most would think of as her usual calm smile, though Archer could see a bit of awkwardness from her that she was forcing herself to ignore. "How may I help you?"
"How could you leave me all alone with her!?" Sona demanded, her voice sharp with exasperation. "I told you to keep her occupied, to keep her in place and far away from me!"
"Unfortunately," her Servant continued, as if she were merely stating library policy, "I am but a humble librarian. It is not within my authority to restrain a concerned family member who wishes to see you, nor to prevent them from moving freely about the school."
"Don't you start with—"
"So-tan~!"
"Urgh!" The bespectacled girl nearly choked on her own breath, her face draining of all color as she turned stiffly for both Servants to see. The sight that greeted them was enough to make Archer consider disappearing from this place altogether, wishing he had never been tangled with people this absurd.
Standing across the hallway was, without a doubt, Sona's older sister, Serafall Leviathan, one of the four Satans.
She was dressed shamelessly in a bright pink magical girl costume, complete with a big wand to wave around, striking a cheerful pose as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Come with me so we can take another set of lovey-dovey sister cutie pictures together! It's been way too long since we did that! I even prepared a small concert in the gymnasium so we can both sing karaoke of all our favorite songs from when you were small! The people will love us!"
In a flash, she closed the distance between herself and her sister as though she had teleported. Her hand clamped onto Sona's with an iron grip, ensuring no chance of escape. Only then did her eyes shift and catch sight of Archer.
"Oh, you're the one called Archer!"
"Please address me as Toujou Shirou, Serafall."
"I'll call you Shirou-tan while we're here! And you can call me Levia-tan!" she replied brightly, her voice brimming with cheer, though her presence stuck out like a sore thumb among the other parents calmly milling around. "I'm so happy I got to come here today! I nearly missed it because Sona forgot to tell me about it! Thank goodness Med-chan was nice enough to let me know! Because of that, I was able to let Zechs know, and now he owes me a favor! I'll be sure to properly thank you for this one day, Med-chan!"
"You traitor!" Sona hissed at her Servant, the look of betrayal in her eyes magnifying tenfold.
"Concerned family members, especially loving sisters, have the right to be informed about important events that offer them a chance to connect, Kaichou," Rider offered.
In that moment, a complicated expression overtook Sona's face as she looked at Rider, but whatever else she had planned on saying was smothered when her sister charged off and forcefully dragged her along. She struggled against the grip but found no escape.
Suddenly, the overly-dressed Satan came to a stop, her head turning slowly toward the usually silent Servant. Archer noticed the faint twitch in Rider's body, a small reaction that caught his attention.
"Oh, I almost forgot," the Devil chimed with sudden enthusiasm, "there is no rule that says a staff member of the school cannot help out with my little project."
Rider's smile remained fixed, yet Archer could sense the subtle shift in her presence. The calm, steady demeanor she usually carried seemed to strain ever so slightly under the pressure of the smaller woman's attention.
"I… I am very busy today," Rider answered evenly.
"You would look so good in a magical girl outfit!" the little Devil pressed, pinning Rider in place with gleeful eyes, ignoring the refusal entirely. "Just a little makeup here and there, maybe fashion your hair into something else, and the costume would be perfect! Perhaps I should tailor it to be a bit longer, but showing off a bit more leg never hurt anyone. Oh, and what luck, I just happened to have brought another magical girl outfit already in your size! What a strange and not-at-all planned out scenario I carefully created a while ago after painfully finding your measurements from just that one conversation we had! Hehehe~!"
"I-I should go," Rider muttered, her voice uncharacteristically faltering. A slight blush formed on her face, and she gained an expression that started to mirror her Master's more and more.
She even stuttered!
"I just remembered I need to archive some late-returned books. Please excuse me—"
"Wait!" The Devil caught Rider's wrist carefully but firmly enough to make her freeze. The subtle unease in Rider's movements was evident as she looked back. "I promise it will be quick! I won't take too much of your time, just a few dozen pictures at most. All you need to do is pose a little, let one of my staff style your hair into twintails, and we'll all look so adorable together on stage! Like sisters! Isn't that wonderful?"
"T-Twintails?"
"Yes! And a bit of singing."
"B-but I can't sing!"
"I'll teach you! You'll be great, I just know it!"
Now, both Master and Servant were dragged away, Rider this time shooting Archer a pleading glance. It was the first time she had ever looked at him like that, and he found it both hilarious and oddly endearing. Still, he knew what had to be done.
"Sorry, I need to speak to the other parents first, plus I've got my own problems with Rias' family. I'll ask one of the students to send me the pictures and videos of the event. Have fun with Levia-tan, you two."
They both glared at him as he waved them off, completely unbothered, fully expecting they'd survive the ordeal intact. He doubted Serafall would try pushing Rider too far—not when there was a chance Rider would just dissolve into her spirit form and refuse to reappear until things calmed down again. Whether Serafall knew Rider could do that or just hadn't thought it through, he didn't know. Either way, he was just relieved she hadn't pulled him into this circus.
Because right now… it looked like he had to deal with someone else who caught his attention.
If one beautiful Devil arriving at the school wearing a magical girl outfit caught the attention of half the students, then now the other half was transfixed by the one wearing a maid outfit standing with a blank face in the middle of the hall. She was looking at him without any change in her expression.
As for the person accompanying her, well, he was also attracting a lot of attention from the female population. He grinned when he immediately started to hear the whispers amongst the girls.
"Are they models?"
"He looks so handsome!"
"Look at that woman's clothes, it looks more like she's a cosplayer, but why do you wear a maid costume to a school's class observation day? Is she someone's mother?"
"She looks too young to be a high school student's mother!"
"He must be related to Gremory-senpai with that deep red hair."
Word started to spread with several people softly whispering among themselves, but no one dared to approach them. Much like when seeing celebrities, they just kept their distance and admired the pair from afar as they approached him.
"I see you came after all," Archer said, having expected to see Sirzechs here, but not Grayfia. "I thought at least one of you would have been occupied with what we discussed earlier and cleaning up everything that occurred recently in your neck of the woods."
"It's good to see you again too, Archer," the man answered smoothly with a good-natured smile, giving him a small bow. "While I certainly do have a lot of work waiting for me back home, Ajuka was kind enough to take over some of my duties today to allow me to have a bit of free time to come over and see Rias at school."
He could already imagine the face of his Master when she had to deal with this man. The camera around his neck already told him more than enough about what might have happened. "I even got to meet other wonderful people, and getting to see my sister studying so seriously in class was a treat in itself."
He nodded. "So basically, you pawned your duty off on someone else, so you can smother Rias."
"Indeed, though he won't be here for long," Grayfia cut in sternly, looking at her husband with narrowed eyes. "Especially since he has an important meeting this afternoon that Lord Ajuka cannot substitute for, which I know he has not forgotten amidst his enthusiasm."
Sirzech flinched at that statement, before giving Grayfia a sincere yet obedient nod.
"O-of course, dear. I remember how important that meeting is, even if seeing my dear Rias is… also very important to me. But I at least have enough spare time to enjoy myself here for a while longer. Rest assured, I'll be there in time."
"Yes, you most certainly will," Grayfia stated, causing Sirzech to shiver under his wife's cold gaze. Archer sighed and decided to ask him another question. Being that it was the one he actually wanted to ask.
"Tell me, has that boy woken up? Have you gotten him to say if there is anything he knows about what happened?" Dealing with Berserker and Saber had reminded him just how much of a disaster it would be if more Servants were summoned. And without a Holy Grail in place, and no knowledge of who built this system, he doubted things were as secure as the one in Fuyuki, and that already said a lot.
"Unfortunately, young Diodora is still in a coma. Even after we had our best healers tend to him, with the assistance of a Phoenix's Tear on top of their efforts, there are still no signs of the Astaroth heir waking anytime soon. I fear that whatever Berserker did has pushed him too deep toward the edge of death, leaving him in his current condition." The Satan's earlier calm expression slipped away as he let out a long sigh. "But we will not stop. Ajuka has made all the necessary preparations for the moment he does open his eyes, so that we may learn the truth without delay."
"Is he seriously going to help us?" Archer asked again, his tone carrying doubt. He clearly wasn't convinced about this plan. His eyes narrowed slightly as if weighing each word, testing for cracks in what was being said. "I don't know what sort of history the two of them share, but considering they come from the same clan, there could easily be a conflict of interests here. I wouldn't expect you or Serafall to remain impartial with matters concerning Rias or Sona, regardless of what your laws say."
"Even if Diodora shares blood ties with him, it changes nothing for Ajuka. During the civil war, my friend spilled the blood of plenty he once called family. This incident only cemented in his mind the cost of trusting such ties, and he won't make the mistake of letting bonds of blood cloud his judgment again."
"That remains to be seen. Results speak louder than words. If what he claims is true, though, then he should have no trouble proving it in the days ahead." Archer's gaze sharpened for a moment, though he quickly let the edge fade, as Sirzechs continued to speak.
"As for now, treat me no differently than a brother here to visit and embarrass his darling sister. I didn't come here as Lucifer. For a few hours at least, I'd like to simply be accepted among your class."
Archer raised a brow at that, stepping back and motioning at the desks filled with students. "You're under a misconception. I hold no personal hatred toward you. That doesn't mean I won't say this plainly — much of this is your fault. Still, I can tell you didn't act out of malice. But if you try summoning a Servant yourself, then you'll be a fool playing with fire, and I won't hesitate to stop you."
The man only smiled, seemingly unfazed by the bluntness. With Grayfia at his side, he stepped past the doorway. The silver-haired maid paused for a moment, her silver eyes locking onto his. "My husband will return to the Underworld once this school event concludes, but I will remain here a while longer after. Do not listen to his requests, should he ask to linger longer than needed."
"Trust me, I won't," Archer replied without hesitation. In fact, he was more than willing to forcefully kick the guy back to the Underworld himself if needed.
From there, the day unfolded as expected, though the mood within the classroom shifted heavily. Normally, his classmates filled their hours with chatter, questions, and whispers of gossip. Yet now the room felt stiff, the air heavy enough that the biggest commotion the students made was the rustling of papers and the scratching of pencils. Even Rias, usually so composed, seemed uncomfortable under her brother's quietly gleeful surveillance. She glanced at Archer more than once, silently pleading through their connection for him to intervene, but he refused and continued on with the lesson. His Master would have to bear through the same embarrassment as all the other students in the school today.
The day didn't get any better though, as time went on. If anything, it became weirder. In his next class, he saw Akeno, seated further along in the classroom, wearing an even more anxious look than Rias. Despite having no family to visit her, she did have an observer in the form of Grayfia. Every time Akeno hesitated to answer a question, the maid's cold eyes bore into her. No words were needed. That stare alone told her to stop holding back and participate properly. Archer recalled that Akeno had mentioned that Grayfia was the one who had taught her much of what she now knew after becoming Rias' Queen. Their bond might be described as that of mentor and disciple, but knowing this particular clan, one could easily imagine them arguing that they were closer, bound more like family, despite what words might suggest.
Of course, Grayfia could be just as strict of a mother figure as she was a nurturing one.
By the time he came to his next class, made up of his original homeroom, the atmosphere had only just started to loosen up when new whispers spread across the room. Archer caught fragments of them, all circling around one surprising subject: Issei. Somehow, the boy had pulled off an unusual stunt during art class. According to the students, he had managed to sculpt a detailed figure of Archer himself. Not in his casual attire either, but fully clad in combat gear, dual swords included.
It wasn't long before someone showed him the evidence. One of the girls eagerly pulled out her phone and presented the picture to him, the small model rendered with startling accuracy. For a moment, Archer stared, caught between mild astonishment and the strange unease of seeing himself captured so precisely in miniature.
"I didn't know you did cosplay, Sensei! You look so good!" the girl teased, unable to keep the grin off her face.
The man let the corner of his mouth twitch, but kept his composure. "I… suppose." The answer came out flat, almost reluctant, as though he wasn't sure whether to take it as a compliment or something else entirely. For the briefest moment, he nearly let more slip, but silence won out, leaving the matter.
"This is strangely accurate…" another girl spoke. "Did you guys go to the gym together or go to anime conventions at some point?"
"I… I guess you could say one of those happened." He nearly denied it outright, but doing so would have only made him look even more suspicious. He forced himself to accept the claim, biting down on the discomfort it brought. Aika, meanwhile, leaned in toward the picture with an unbothered expression, scrutinizing the details and glancing back at him every now and then as though she were a critic examining a painting.
After nearly a minute of scrutiny, she fervently shook her head, pigtails whipping through the air. "No, no, this is totally off. The chest on this little model? Way smaller than Sensei's. And come on, his ass isn't that flat either! Plus, the bulge at the crotch? It should be way bigger. If you fix all that, it'll be—ugh!"
A sharp snap broke the air as a piece of chalk flew across the room, striking her squarely in the forehead before she could continue. He had grown used to silencing her or the Perverted Trio this way whenever any of them got carried away, though this time he was more desperate than annoyed. The last thing he wanted was for her to keep describing his body in such detail, especially in front of her parents. To his misfortune, both the girl's mother and father were seated nearby, their expressions set in a familiar mixture of weary tolerance and resignation. They looked as if they had long given up trying to correct their daughter's lascivious behavior.
On top of everything, someone had apparently purchased Issei's sculpture of him! And there'd even been a small bidding war for it, resulting in quite a pretty penny for Issei. That thought alone sent a chill down Archer's back. A heavy sense of unease settled in his chest, the sort that spoke of nothing good. That object needed to be destroyed before it created further trouble. He could not trust the girls in this school not to misuse it or, worse, produce more copies. Especially if Aika was allowed to make her adjustments. His identity as a Servant was supposed to remain hidden. To think it had now been molded into clay and passed around like some novelty item was absurd.
"Do I have to start worrying about Issei chasing after you as well?" Akeno remarked, half-covering her mouth to stifle her amusement.
"That better not be the case," he replied dryly.
As it turned out, upon seeing what had been made, Issei had run off screaming, only reluctantly returning when he found out he could make some surprisingly decent money while getting rid of the thing. Several girls had started throwing around strange comments the moment they saw him nearby, and the boy fled without hesitation. For once, he could not even bring himself to blame Issei. In fact, he sympathized. It was easy to see how the boy's imagination had run wild. Given all the training he had put him through, along with the countless times Issei had watched him summon and use his swords, it was not surprising the boy would latch onto such imagery. To him, it was probably no different than a child staring in awe at a line of action figures modeled after their favorite hero.
With that in mind, Archer allowed the matter to slide and pushed it aside. The rest of the day passed with a blur of classes, parents crowding the grounds to take pictures of their children, and the occasional group of overly forward mothers trying to corner him for conversation. He slipped out of reach whenever possible, eventually finding his way to the teachers' lounge for a reprieve.
Inside, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. Rider sat at one of the tables, her head resting atop her folded arms. From the way her shoulders rose and fell, she seemed to be half-asleep, drained by the day's events.
"Looks like you had a rough day too," he commented, lowering his voice slightly so as not to wake her fully. "Oh, and I nearly forgot. I should probably ask Serafall to send me those pictures of you in a magical—"
Bang!
He never finished. His head tilted instinctively as something whistled through the air. A wooden ruler had buried itself deep into the wall where his temple had been only a second earlier.
"Don't. You. Dare," Rider whispered, her voice weary, yet sharp enough to cut. Her warning only made his grin spread wider. Teasing her was too tempting, and the dangerous edge in her tone only encouraged him.
"Before, I was merely curious. Now I'm dying to get my hands on them. You'd look adorable with twintails."
Her head shifted slightly, turning just enough to glance at him with a strangely sly look. "Trust me," she murmured, "I know you like twintails."
"…"
"And I already planned my revenge; it could happen anytime, so keep an eye out for that."
He froze, his smile faltering for the first time. Best to walk away before she twisted her words into something even more unsettling. With Rider, he knew better than to ever let his guard slip.
{Break}
(Evening)
Evening settled in, and class observation day came to a close. Archer, Rias, and Grayfia returned to Rias' residence, each still carrying a trace of the day's atmosphere with them. The moment they stepped inside, the maid froze mid-step. Her silver eyes shifted upward, her posture tightening as she fixed her gaze on a particular direction within the manor. Archer noticed immediately the way her head tilted with sudden focus, and it was not difficult for him to understand the reason behind her reaction.
"If you're sensing holy energy, don't worry about it," he said calmly, already walking further inside. "It's just those two exorcists. They're staying in one of the rooms on the second floor. They honestly tried camping out back at first, but I was able to convince them to live like civilized people. They unfortunately are still in the habit of leaving their swords out in plain sight, and the seals around them hardly conceal anything. Please bear with it."
"Giving them a place to live, I can understand, but here of all places?" Grayfia's tone carried disbelief, her voice sharper than usual. She followed him closely, her heels soft against the polished floor, while Archer continued toward the kitchen without slowing.
"It was either that," he answered with a small shrug, "or they'd end up trying to squeeze money from the public and create unnecessary problems. This way is simpler. Besides, it's only temporary. Once their church is rebuilt, they'll move out. Until then, I get to keep a close eye on them, and more importantly, on the holy swords."
"Keep your friends close, keep your allies closer, and your enemies closer still?" she remarked, folding her arms.
"You could look at it that way, yes," Archer replied, already pulling a pan from the rack. He placed it on the stove and turned on the flame, his mind shifting to dinner. He thought about the number of mouths to feed — five in total now, since Rias never let him eat apart from her. "Let's keep it simple tonight. Hamburger steak will do fine."
Grayfia opened the fridge without asking, retrieving ingredients and setting them neatly on the counter. Without waiting for him, she started chopping vegetables, her motions quick and precise.
"I'm surprised you didn't just take the pan out of my hands and insist on making the dish yourself while I was forced to attend to Rias," Archer said with a faint trace of humor.
Grayfia shook her head lightly. "There's no point in doing something like that when I know it wouldn't work. Besides, I'm curious to see how you prepare it."
"Strange," Archer said, adjusting the pan, "it almost sounds like you're conceding defeat. I suppose there won't be another contest between us this evening after all."
"I'm more than happy to compete whenever you wish," she replied, her knife moving quickly across the board. "Though I suspect our current judge, who resides in this manor, would hardly be impartial toward me. Besides, I won't accept a handicap with you being one-handed."
"That sounds like an excuse," Archer countered. "You know you would lose."
"Confidence can easily lead to one's own downfall," she replied coolly.
Their remarks continued in short bursts, neither heated nor hostile. It was a steady rhythm of teasing remarks, laced with sarcasm but never malice. Despite the sharpness of their words, their actions fell into a strange rhythm. He set the pan in place and adjusted the flame while she had already finished slicing half a tray of vegetables. They moved around each other with ease, never colliding, adjusting instinctively as if the kitchen were a stage they had rehearsed together countless times before.
Nearly thirty minutes passed this way without them realizing. The meal was complete, the fragrance of sizzling meat and fresh vegetables filling the kitchen. They both stood before their work, regarding it with skeptical eyes.
"It looks… perfect?" Archer muttered, his brow lifting slightly. The dish before him appeared more polished than usual. Even the scent seemed richer, sharper, and the colors more vibrant than he remembered.
"You didn't slip any secret ingredients into it, did you?" he asked cautiously.
"Other than salt? Nothing," Grayfia answered. She took a spoon, tasted it herself, and her eyes widened almost instantly.
"Is it really that good?" Archer asked, watching her take another small bite.
Instead of answering, she scooped up another small portion for tasting and held it toward him. The gesture had a faint trace of intimacy, though her intent was purely practical. She wanted him to also verify the taste of their shared efforts, nothing beyond that. Accepting the gesture, Archer let the food touch his tongue and froze in place.
"How… is it this good? The recipe hasn't changed at all from what I normally do. And I suspect the same is true of you."
"I'm equally confused," Grayfia admitted, tasting it again, still staring at the dish as though searching for the secret hidden inside it.
"Do you… think we can recreate this effect with other meals if we worked together on them?" Archer asked, half-serious.
"It's worth trying," she replied, her attention already on another spoonful of the dish as she lifted it absentmindedly toward him again.
He blinked, noticing her hand closer to his face, spoon angled toward his mouth without hesitation.
"Not many people would even dream of literally spoon-feeding a Servant, you know. That's usually my role, not the other way around."
"Then congratulations, I am your first." Grayfia, eyes still focused on the food, gave a short exhale. "It's a habit I can't quite shake off. I used to feed my son and Lady Rias this way. I suppose it stuck with me. I'll be mindful next time."
So she said, but that would have sounded way more convincing had she not brought another piece of food in front of his face with a blank expression, with zero shame or embarrassment. He had a not-so-small feeling that she was messing with him more than anything else.
"What is going on here?" a voice called out, cutting into the quiet. Both of them froze, stiff as boards, before turning slowly toward the source. Standing in the kitchen entrance were all three residents, their eyes wide and mouths half open at the sight before them. In the middle stood Rias, positioned neatly between Xenovia and Irina, a strained smile tugging at her lips as she tried to hold her composure.
"Am I disturbing something?" the crimson-haired Devil asked with deliberate sweetness, her gaze shifting between the two. "Both of you seem to be having quite the time getting along here. You appear to be enjoying Grayfia's presence rather a lot, Archer. And you as well, Grayfia. Perhaps you might explain why you chose to remain here to cook dinner with my Servant rather than returning to the Underworld with my brother, your husband?"
The question lingered for a bit.
(Next part in 38.2 with Lemon)
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The next 5 chapters of Snafu, and my other Fate fics (Fate Coiling Sword with 3 chapters, A Fake Familiar Reborn with 3 chapters, Steel Eyed Faker soon to be 3 chapters, Hound having 3 and To love a sword having 4 chapters) are already available on my P@treon. With 4 more Broly chapters at /NimtheWriter. Also, I post commissioned arts on each story, already posted a few on an Archer's Promise, Broly and Snafu.