The last of the golden motes vanished into the ashen sky as Ushiwakamaru slid her blade into its scabbard.
A heavy thud pulled her attention, drawing her gaze downward.
Lying where her opponent had just stood was a scythe—broad, wicked, and rapidly losing its color. She watched as the foul purple bled out of the blade, replaced by a dull, brownish-gold hue as the corrupted glow died along with its master.
Just as she took a step forward, a sharp pang of pain made her stumble.
A raw gash carved across her midsection was bleeding sluggishly. She pressed two fingers against the wound and frowned; by all accounts, the cut wasn't that deep. Her body should have already started to mend the tear. Yet it hadn't.
Which could only mean…
"The weapon is cursed."
Her eyes drifted back to the fallen scythe. She crouched and lifted the scythe, examining it closely. It was heavy, remarkably well-made, and just as she suspected, thoroughly cursed.
"Why stay behind?" she murmured to the empty air.
Hoisting the weapon over her shoulder, she turned back toward the direction she had left her Master. She had honestly hoped to bring Ritsuka-Sama a head, but this would have to do.
A sharp, small smile pulled at her lips. Perhaps a conquered weapon was the better trophy anyway.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X–X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
If anyone had told Olga Marie Animusphere—a Lord of the Clock Tower and Director of Chaldea—that she would be dumped atop a roof like a sack of potatoes and ordered to "stay put" by a lecherous Caster, she would have had them executed. A few hours ago, she was the commander of a global elite, flanked by prodigies like Kirschtaria Wodime and supported by Lev Lainur. Now? Her facility lay in ruins, her top team was on ice, and her "miserable entourage" consisted of two non-magi twins, a Demi-Servant who couldn't even trigger her Noble Phantasm, and a terrifying "Unknown" currently trading blows with the bloody Heracles.
It was an insult that should have triggered a legendary temper, but the throbbing headache behind her eyes kept it at bay.
The wait felt like hours, though her watch insisted it had only been minutes. Finally, Cú Chulainn's bounded field flickered and died. The Caster stepped onto the roof first, followed seconds later by Ushiwakamaru. Olga's eyes immediately narrowed. The Rider was hoisting a heavy, brownish-bronze scythe—a foreign weapon she certainly hadn't been summoned with—and bleeding from a raw gash across her stomach.
Olga frowned. For a Heroic Spirit, a minor flesh wound should have closed pretty quickly. Yet this one hadn't.
Before Ushiwakamaru could speak, the concrete beneath their feet groaned and bucked violently. The shockwave of the ongoing battle across the city rattled her teeth.
"We need to move," Caster noted, his voice entirely too casual for the apocalypse. "Unless you want to be here when the fight inevitably spills over."
Olga didn't argue. The humiliation of being hoisted into a piggyback ride by a Servant was unbearable, though she took bitter comfort in watching the twins get whisked away in far more ridiculous "princess carries." She tightly closed her eyes, hiding her face as the Servants blurred through the burning ruins of Fuyuki.
When they finally skidded to a halt, Olga opened her eyes to find herself standing in the courtyard of a traditional estate. She tensed, immediately sensing the heavy, residual pressure of ancient bounded fields. Unlike the rest of the incinerated city, this place was pristine.
Smoothing down her wrinkled uniform, Olga let out a long, weary sigh. "Why were we even hiding in that dingy basement to begin with?" she muttered, stepping onto the clean floorboards.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X–X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
To an ordinary middle-class kid like Ritsuka, the drawing room felt less like a sanctuary and more like a high-end museum where he wasn't supposed to touch anything. The pristine tatami mats under his sneakers and the heavy lacquered wood were stark reminders of an aristocratic world he didn't belong to. It was a bizarre contrast to the ruined streets outside. Through the tall windows, the distant, rhythmic thunder of the ongoing battle pulsed across the gray sky, a constant reminder of the chaos they had just escaped.
But Ritsuka forced himself to ignore the room. His eyes were locked entirely onto the dark, spreading crimson on Ushiwakamaru's white armor.
She was sitting on the edge of a low, carved wooden chest, trying—and failing—to keep her breathing steady. Without a word, Ritsuka grabbed a plastic first-aid kit he'd spotted on an ornate side table and knelt on the floorboards directly in front of her..
"My Lord, what are you doing?" Ushiwakamaru's posture went rigid as he popped the plastic latches.
"Bandaging that," Ritsuka said, his voice flat with a stubbornness he didn't know he possessed. He pulled out antiseptic wipes and a fresh roll of gauze.
"There is no need. I am a Servant; such a trifle is my burden to bear, not yours. Please, sit and—"
"I'm not sitting while you're bleeding," Ritsuka cut her off, tearing open a packet of gauze.
"But—"
Ritsuka stopped his hands, looking up to meet her eyes. "Then as your Master... please, let me help you."
Ushiwakamaru froze. Her jaw tightened, a sharp line of tension cutting across her face. She looked away, staring hard at the edge of the floor, but she gave a single, stiff nod. She went completely quiet, yielding to him.
Ritsuka wiped away the excess blood and pressed a clean gauze pad firmly against the gash, holding it in place.
But when he pulled his hand back, the blood kept leaking over her skin, soaking right through the fresh cotton.
Ritsuka's brow furrowed. "Why isn't this stopping?"
"Because it is not a normal wound, my Lord," Ushiwakamaru said quietly, her eyes still fixed on the floor. "It carries a foul presence. A curse. That is why I begged you not to fret over a trifle that cannot be mended by ordinary means."
Ritsuka's hands paused on the gauze. "A curse?"
"An ugly one, too," Cú's casual voice drawled from the doorway.
The Caster stepped into the room, cracking open a can of beer that had seemingly appeared from nowhere. He walked over, his lazy atmosphere vanishing as his eyes narrowed at the stained white cloth.
"Move your hands for a second, kid," Cú said, his voice dropping its playful edge.
Ritsuka stepped back, watching as the Caster placed a hand just above the wound. A harsh white light flared, a single jagged rune etching itself into the air before sinking directly into Ushiwakamaru's skin. The sluggish bleeding stopped instantly, yet Cú's expression had remained grim.
"There. I put a cork in the bottle," He said, clicking his tongue as the light faded. "But the curse itself is beyond my ability to heal. I just put the wound in a sort of suspended animation."
He hummed, turning his attention toward the heavy, brownish-bronze scythe leaned against the wall. "Say, you know what Servant you were trading blows with out there?"
"I do not," Ushiwakamaru admitted.
"It was Medusa. The Gorgon," Cú supplied. As Ritsuka's eyes widened, Cú reached over and picked up the scythe, twirling it with an easy, dangerous grace. "Now normally, nothing in her legend says she'd be a Lancer. She's a Rider because of Pegasus, or maybe a Berserker because of the whole monster thing. But there is one weapon tied to her story that fits."
"That is not yours to touch," Ushiwakamaru snapped, her hand instinctively twitching toward her scabbard.
"Take it easy, it ain't," Cú said, raising his hands in a lazy, sarcastic surrender as he set the weapon back down.
From across the room, sitting by the window and aggressively fiddling with a ruby in her hand, Olga Marie spoke up.
"Harpe."
Her voice cut through the room, drawing the immediate attention of both Servants. She looked up, her expression strained but certain. "The Immortal Killer. It's the divine falx Perseus used to decapitate Medusa. Its main ability is that it inflicts wounds that cannot be healed, even by those with divine or immortal blood."
"Ding, ding, ding," Cú pointed his beer can at the Director. "Yeah, it's a nasty piece of work. I don't think even a Command Seal would work against that thing. It'll stay closed for now, but if you get into a real scrap, it's gonna tear right open."
Ritsuka's stomach dropped. If it wouldn't heal, Ushiwakamaru was fighting on a timer. "Then we're stuck?"
"Relax," Cú said, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "I can't fix it. But my Master can."
Ritsuka blinked in confusion. "Your Master? You mean..."
The realization hit him. He remembered the Director, pale and dying back in the command room bunker from a corruption that Dr. Roman had called entirely fatal. He remembered how casually Sukuna had ripped that darkness away.
"Sukuna," Ritsuka breathed, a massive wave of relief clearing the panic from his chest. "He healed the Director. If he could handle whatever was killing her, he can fix this."
"Exactly," Cú said, gesturing toward the gauze with his can. "The guy's a total freak when it comes to curses. So, finish up with the human medicine for now. We'll wait until he gets back from the front lines."
"Right. Yeah, right!" Ritsuka turned back to the task with entirely renewed focus. "I'll have her completely patched up by the time he arrives."
Ushiwakamaru watched her Master work, her expression softening as the oppressive weight in the room finally subsided, replaced by the quiet, methodical sounds of Ritsuka securing the clean bandages.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X–X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
Gudako stayed in the corner of the drawing room, her back against the peeling wall, quietly watching.
Ritsuka was holding a wrinkled packet of crackers like a peace offering. His ears had gone completely red. Ushiwakamaru leaned in just a little too close, her eyes earnest as she refused, and his gaze immediately flickered away, utterly unable to hold the sight of her minimal attire.
Gudako bit the inside of her cheek. Enjoying the sight of her brother's flustered face.
Then, her eyes swept the room again. Mash wasn't there.
She moved, heading toward the stairs.
Just near the base of the steps, a faint, rhythmic sound caught her attention.
Drip. Drip.
She froze, bracing for something dangerous, before following the hollow echo straight into the kitchen. The sink was completely dry, but leaning heavily against the scarred wooden table was the massive, cold steel monolith of the shield.
And there, tucked into the shadow beside the fridge, was Mash. She was curled tightly into herself, her shoulders trembling as she wept in that silent, exhausting way that hurts far worse than a scream.
Gudako didn't ask questions. She didn't care about the dust or the damp floorboards; she simply walked over and sat flat on the floor beside her.
Mash flinched slightly, her shoulders tensing as she tried to pull away. She frantically wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, her voice tight and forced. "Senpai, I... I am fine. Please go back to the drawing room. I will return in a moment."
Gudako didn't move. Without a word, she reached out, gently guiding Mash's head down onto her shoulder, resting her own chin on top of the girl's messy lavender hair.
"Let it all out," Gudako murmured.
The moment Gudako's arm wrapped around her, Mash's restraint shattered. Her breathing hitched, her hands clutching at Gudako's clothes as tears instantly soaked through the fabric. Mash tried to hold it in, but her frame shook with the sheer weight of everything she was carrying.
A few quiet minutes passed, the heavy, ragged sobs slowly winding down until the kitchen was still again.
Gudako squeezed her slightly. "You don't have to tell me everything, Mash. Or anything. That's not what matters right now."
Mash didn't move, her face still buried in Gudako's shoulder. "I couldn't do anything," she whispered, her voice muffled and trembling against the fabric. "At the bridge... the monster swatted me away like I was nothing. I couldn't protect the Director, or you, or Master Ritsuka. And out there just now, Caster and Sukuna... they didn't even hesitate. They knew exactly how to fight, how to take charge, while I was just left behind to watch the luggage. I have a Servant's shield, Senpai. I have a Servant's strength. But I can't even unlock its power. I'm just a useless, broken demi-servant standing in everyone's way."
Gudako tightened her grip, resting her cheek against Mash's hair, letting the heavy silence of the kitchen swallow Mash's confession. She didn't see a failed shield—she just saw a terrified girl crushing herself under an impossible weight.
"You know, I used to be incredibly jealous of Ritsuka," Gudako said softly, staring out across the dark kitchen. "I felt so ashamed of it, too. But he figured it out before I even admitted it to myself. He sat me down one day and told me something I'll never forget."
She tilted her head down, making sure her voice landed. "He said, 'Stop trying to be better than me. Start trying to be you.' And then he looked me dead in the eye and said, 'I was never meant to be the thing you measure yourself against.'"
Mash's breath hitched again. Then she suddenly lunged forward, throwing her arms around Gudako in a tight hug.
"Uff—" Gudako let out a breathless laugh, catching the girl securely and squeezing her back just as hard. "I'm not going anywhere. You're my friend."
From the doorway, Cú Chulainn watched for a heartbeat. A small smile touched his lips. Without a word, the Caster turned and walked away, footsteps silent.
-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X–X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-
AUTHORS NOTE:
Hey everyone, just a quick heads-up before you dive in. This is a complete rewrite of Chapter 8, which I wrote quite a bit ago.
I've been going back through my older chapters—the ones that are currently only on Patreon for now—and to be completely honest, Chapters 8, 9, and Interlude 1 feel like absolute shit to me right now. So, I'm fixing them up.
I have a small favor to ask of you guys here. If you have the time, I would love for you to read and compare my writing from previous chapters and this one. Please let me know in the comments where you think my writing has improved, and where you feel I still have room to grow. Your feedback means the world to me and genuinely helps me refine my craft!
I know this was a relatively small chapter, but the next one should turn out much bigger if everything goes as planned. [They didn't go as planned]. You can expect the next chapter to drop by next week. I will be weekly uploading until I can get some more chapters up on patreon as advanced content.
Now if you are asking if I am back... Then maybe? I can't in good faith say yes but I will try. The past 2 months have been a bit down lately and then a month ago one of my YouTube chanells kinda blew up... So I've been managing that.
As always, I am incredibly thankful for your continued patience and support. Be sure to comment and let me know your thoughts!
More content available on my Pat - reon [ pat reon . com / st_scarface or just search StScarface Pat - reon: INTER 5, FCO Fuyuki Arc(Completed) and INTER 1 and 2, 4 chapters of A Pragmatist's Guide to a Prophecy (HP SI AS HARRY) and up to chapter 4 of Of Aliens, Magic, and Superheroes.
PS: Got a Ko - Fi now, so come say Hi — no need to pay anything, a message is enough: https: // ko-fi.com / stscarface
Ciao!
P.S. Just a heads-up on my upcoming schedule: I will only be continuing and focusing on this specific story for a while before I even think about adding another project to my roster. Thank you for sticking with me!