9:30am, Four days after the Ichor Chalice was claimed, Heping's hotel room
Steam filled the bathroom floor-to-ceiling. Heping had never taken a hot shower before the war began. Cold showers were all she had ever known: first because it was all she had, and then continuing the practice out of habit even as other options became available. It was Pigsy, in all his hedonism, who had introduced her to the concept. At first, she hadn't exactly seen the appeal, but as injuries piled on injuries, all made worse by the stiffness and weakness of being bedridden, the feeling of the hot water massaging her aching muscles and bones had become a source of great comfort. It had almost become her new normal. She worried that she might not be able to go back.
'Go back'? That turn of phrase struck a certain cord with her. No, she couldn't go back. There was no undoing what had been done.
Shenghuo, her brother and the Master of Archer, was dead. Monika, the young woman who had been tending to her over the last few days, had confirmed as much. Apparently, she had investigated the aftermath of the battle that night and found his body. Circumstantial evidence suggested that Saber had been responsible, but, weighing what was known, and with the two young women both acting as character witnesses, it became clear that he had been murdered by his own Servant. The deduction was easy enough. Despite the evil her brother had done to her and others, despite the aching in her scars whenever she remembered that night, the fact that he had died in such a way still managed to inspire a stab of pity in her heart. Whatever the case may have been, he was still her brother. She wasn't so heartless that she could ignore that, even if he had been.
Aaron Sylphus, the Master of Rider, was dead. His death was one of the pieces of evidence that indicted Archer, as he had died in much the same way Shenghuo had: a clean cut to the neck, though, for Aaron, this merited a full separation of skull and spine. The memories were vague now, but she knew, and Monika's testimony affirmed, that he had helped in rescuing her that fateful night. Whatever had happened in the final battle, he had certainly gone down fighting. Apparently, also according to Monika, who had been assisting in the Clocktower Mage's Association's investigation of the Grail War, he had no living relatives or next of kin. As a result, all his belongings would be assumed by the Clocktower. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. He was a contradictory man, and the memory of him brought about conflicting feelings in her. For her own sanity, she chose to ignore them. If any emotion prevailed over the rest, it was pity. He had no one to inherit him; nobody at all. She wondered if he was ever lonely. She knew that she had been lonely even when others were around; it must have been impossibly worse when there was genuinely and truly no one at all.
Yanni Iole, the Master of Berserker, was technically missing, but was presumed dead. He apparently wasn't a mage; he simply possessed connections to some mages. He was, it would seem, an unremarkable man. The investigation into him and his life ended soon after it began. There just wasn't anything worth mentioning. Even his greatest achievement, summoning a Divine Spirit capable of conquering the whole Earth, had evaporated into nothing, with no real sign that it had ever occurred. His life, his death, had truly been a waste.
The Master of Assassin had disappeared without a trace. In fact, no one seemed to have any memory of meeting her. It was as if she were a ghost, and maybe she was. The investigation into her had to be abandoned because there was simply nothing to investigate. She left no trace of her existence.
Then there was the Master of Caster, Aisha Alghul, who had been one of the war's architects. Her end seemed the most deserved, and yet also the most troubling. Her body had been found, broken and bent, in her own basement, surrounded by innumerable others, all dead or in a vegetative state. Her face, Monika had told her with much trepidation, was locked into an inhuman smile, so wide that it seemed like her mouth was nearly being torn apart. She, too, had undoubtedly been betrayed by her Servant, and, given her Servant's penchant for trickery, there was a chance that she was actually the first one to die. She could have been deceased for the whole war, and no one would have known. Her death seemed both prolonged and painful, which was perhaps fitting for a necromancer. Apparently her body, after being examined by a coroner, had been sold, bought out by some other big-wig in the art of the undead. God only knew what sort of horrors she would be subjected to. For Aisha, the shame and dishonor of her demise would last long after her own death. Then again, she wondered how a necromancer would feel at the thought of her own end. Was the mark of a necromancer an apathy towards death, and a disrespect for the dead? Or was it the fear of death? The desire to remove death's sting at all cost? Perhaps the thing a necromancer feared most was becoming subject to another mage's spell.
Mages were selfish and hypocritical by nature. She supposed that every mage was their own worst enemy, and that all of them spent their life in fear of those who held greater skill and ambition. Even if it was just, even if they had never met, the death of Aisha Alghul had a way of lingering with her in spite of it all.
There were countless other tragedies as well. Civilians, mages, mercenaries, all caught up in forces beyond their imaginations and torn to pieces. Some of these stories were known, and would be told, such as the companions of the mage who had escaped and blown the whistle which brought Monika here, and even he was left unrecognizably scarred. However, most of the dead and scarred would pass from this world unnoticed by history as silent tragedies left unspoken.
There was no need to mention the Servants. None of them were long for this world; they were all ghosts to begin with. And yet, it was impressive how even the shadows of these men managed to echo through time, even unto the modern day. Alive or dead, it didn't matter; great men continued to leave their mark long after their own death. Even their shadows had weight. Rider was a great man, a knight in shining armor. Indeed, she had never understood that expression before she met him, but his life and death gave definition to the word 'chivalry'. Goodness lived inside of him, and there was no denying the existence of a true and definite morality so long as he was in the room. Saber, too, was a hero, but he was uniquely defined by his humility. Rider had radiated goodness, but Saber kept it within his heart, nursing it, raising it, until the day that it could blossom in full. From what she saw at the end of it, she believed it had. Assassin had lived and died quietly, and yet her loss seemed to leave a quiet sadness behind. Berserker had been thwarted, but was he ever really a monster? Caster and Archer, but especially Caster, had shown themselves to be the true villains, and had been vanquished by the combined efforts of Saber and...
Lancer. Her own friend, Pigsy. He was a glutton, and a pervert and a coward and...
She stifled a sob. That wouldn't do. He was her friend. He wouldn't want her to cry. They would see each other again, she was sure. Besides that, it seemed to her that his wish had been granted. When he died, he was closer to Heaven than he had ever been. She knew, deep in her heart, that his story wasn't over; he had left this life for the next one, continuing his journey ever-upwards...
And then there was the Master of Saber. She had her happy ending, she and Saber both. Heping found herself jealous, in a way, but she knew that was a selfish and stupid feeling. Her relationship with Pigsy was nothing like what they had: that ending wouldn't have been fit for them. Either of them. Neither had a use for that prize, not really. By the end of it, it seemed fairly clear that even Pigsy's wish wouldn't have been fully granted by it. No, he was brought closer to the divinity he sought through his sacrifice than he would've been with the Chalice. Looking at it now, she began to think that much of her resentment came from the one she left behind.
Monika, her sister, though she hid it well, still hadn't fully processed the loss. Even Heping, in spite of her social deafness, could detect that a lot of the care she had shown her was just projection. Monika was treating her as if she were the sister she lost, and she hadn't yet come to terms with how to deal with that. Heping couldn't understand how Athena could treat such a caring sister so callously. She was so intensely lucky to have her, especially when compared to her own family...
Yes. Her family.
She had received emails from her mother. At first, they were requesting reports on her progress. She left them unopened. The next requested reports with the caveat that her brother had not been reporting. Finally was a note that her brother had been confirmed dead. She was told to return home; that she was to be the heir to the Xiaji Mage Family and that there were preparations to be made.
Of course. Mages were all the same. Even if she had been the one who had killed Shenghuo, it wouldn't have mattered. One of them was always going to die; that was the whole point.
She couldn't go back. She couldn't bear the thought of it. There was no going back. There was no pretending that this war hadn't happened. That it hadn't changed her. That HE, her friend, her Servant, hadn't changed her.
There were two paths ahead. On one, there was the world she knew. The world she hated. The world which hated her. On the other, there was uncertainty. And yet, among that uncertainty, there was friendship and love to be found. Pigsy, Athena, Saber, Rider and Monika; they had all taught her that.
She had a strange conviction in her heart; a strange belief that, somehow, if she went back to her parents, she would never see Pigsy again. The choice, then, was clear...
-
The water was getting colder. She supposed that was her sign to go. She had mulled over these thoughts tirelessly over the last week; she was going around in circles at this point. The story had ended, and there was nothing more to be done about it. The only way to escape her own thoughts was to turn the page and begin the next adventure. Maybe then it would all make sense.
She left the shower. As she dried, she couldn't help but examine her own body. There was still a large wound in her chest. It had healed, in a way, but the scarring was deep. Her left breast had become noticeably stiffened, and some of the skin had turned a sickly shade of gray. The possibility of it becoming gangrenous was nonzero, as was the chance of a mastectomy becoming necessary. That fact stirred strange and new emotions in her. She had never been too attached to her sex. The men in her army were stronger and faster than her in a way she couldn't compete with. Magical circuits made it easier, but anyone with the same or similar quality circuits could floor her in an instant. At home, of course, the favoritism her brother received did no good for her esteem as a woman. And yet, it occurred to her then that her sex was the only reason she was alive. She had survived because her brother, firstly, had underestimated her, and secondly because he valued her body, her sex, and her ability to bring life into this world. If she had been a man, Shenghuo would have killed her immediately, ruthlessly, and without remorse. For the first time, maybe ever, she felt grateful to have been born a woman.
She decided she wanted to preserve her breast if she could. It was a piece of her she could no longer deny, nor did she desire to deny it any longer.
As she felt her breast, her attention unfailingly fell to her arms. They were covered in scars, burns from when she had repelled her brother's swords. Her forearms resembled a tiger's, covered in stripes. Her right hand, in particular, was all red, reminding her of a macaque's. Maybe her brother was right. Maybe she was more beast than woman. Maybe consorting with Pigsy had made her more of an animal herself.
She smiled. Sometimes animals know better than people do. A dog will run from an abusive master, but a human will bear the abuse for as long as she lives, constantly inventing excuses not to do what was clearly in her best interest. There was a beauty in that simplicity.
Simplicity. Yes. Before all else, that was what she desired. She wanted to get away from all the arbitrary rules and faux paus. Simple right. Simple wrong. Simple friendship. What was wrong with that?
Nothing. There was nothing wrong with that.
She strut from the bathroom without any shame at all, going to her bedroom, donning the clothes she had set out for herself, a plain black hoodie and yellow leggings, and seizing the luggage she'd already packed. Monika watched her all the while from the kitchen bar. When she was ready, the two young women met by the door for their final goodbye.
Monika shuffled awkwardly, "So-? Everything packed? You didn't forget anything, did you?"
She didn't want her to go. That much was obvious.
'I am not your sister. Please, do not look at me like that. I cannot replace her.'
Those words sat precariously at the edge of her lips, but she held her tongue. If the Master of Saber would discard such a gift as her, then she would seize upon it. This sisterhood was something to be cherished. She wouldn't do to Monika as her brother had done to her- she refused.
"Yes. I have everything. Thank you for all that you have done for me. I have been very lucky to have you."
"Please- you don't have to be so formal," She swallowed, "Are you sure you don't want to come to the Clocktower? I'm sure we can keep you safe from the Chinese mages."
She bit the inside of her lip, "Do you truly think mages of all people would be so kind? Even when it was not in their own best interest?"
Monika averted her eyes. She knew what Heping had said was true, and yet...
"I know of one who is. I know of one who would do everything in his power to keep you safe. He's a Lord, and he's got a large following of accomplished mages who would support his decision and offer you the very same kindness- maybe more."
A certain sadness pierced her heart. It all sounded too good to be true.
"I... I will not reject the offer out of hand, but I cannot take it now. I will go to America. There is land out there where one may live simply- or so I have been told. Even if I should be caught by their government... I would not expect them to surrender me- not when I could be useful to them."
"I hope that's true, Heping. I really do." She steeled herself, "Do you have a phone, by any chance?"
Heping reached into her pocket and pulled out the flip-phone her parents had given her. Opening it, the first thing she saw was another message from her mother-
She crushed the phone in a fist laced with black circuits.
"No. No I do not."
Monika let out an awkward chuckle to disguise her fear, "Oh-! Well, that's a shame, isn't it... Here."
She took a slip of paper and wrote down a series of numbers. Then, pausing for a moment, she wrote a second series and handed it to Heping.
"Keep this with you. The first number is mine, and the second belongs to the Lord who would help you. You know- just in case."
Monika released the breath she'd been holding, and her shoulders slumped in spite of herself.
Heping allowed her emotions to sway her. She could no longer sit idly by. She brought Monika into a tight embrace.
"Thank you. Truly. I will not forget what you have done for me."
Their faces were so close together that she felt a tear roll down Monika's cheek.
"That's good. Thank you. Just don't be a stranger, okay?"
"I promise. Once I feel that I am safe, I will use the number you gave me. Do not worry."
Monika was working now, working hard, to keep herself from sobbing, "Thank you."
In time, Monika would release the embrace, and, with a parting kiss on the cheek, Heping left the hotel room briskly so as not to prolong their farewell. There, in the hallway, and despite the best efforts of the hotel itself, stains and tears still hung from the battle the other night. Yes, the whole city had scars, even down to its foundation. Everything the war had touched was irreparably changed forever- for better or for worse it couldn't yet be said.
At the end of the hall, just before she pressed the button to summon the elevator, she found herself looking back. The scars would remain, but time moved on regardless. Besides that, she was young. This was one chapter among many. There were more scars to be gained, more lessons to be learned, and more friends to be made. She was changed, but she would change much more before her story came to its final close.
She turned to the doors opening in front of her, and she never looked back again.
.