be human.

“In Spirale? Really?” Is this an out of season April Fool’s joke?

“And why would that concern you?”

      ❛   People in this city seem pretty quick to forget that brawls most definitely open you up to potential lawsuits.   ❜

        ah. 

  it’s not a voice she’s expecting to hear but it isn’t as startling as some would expect. in fact, she doesn’t even jump or suddenly roll over in disbelief. no, Ritsuka cracks one eye open to look up at the doctor for a moment. “ Hey, if this can handle Scandinavia and Russia, then I’ll be fine.” lazily does she lift her hand to wave off the concern of getting a cold. if she did? oh well, then that’s her own fault and she just knows there would be numerous ‘ i told you so’ aimed at her. but it’s not something to worry about right now. it’s less of her recklessness and more of if it happens, then it happens. plus, this was not a time for worrying, but simply being.

        she sighs quietly, both eyes now open. there’s a small smile on her lips– it had been some time since she last saw Romani. a lot has happened, a lot has changed, and there’s numerous stories to be told. but there exists no ache in her chest at the sight of him anymore. just a nostalgic warmth.

    “ Nope! I made this for Fou. You should see the cape he wears when we’re working at the cafe.” the former Beast kyuu’s loudly, happily hopping off of her stomach to traverse the snow and climb onto Romani’s shoulders. she laughs at the sight, finding the sight of the two upside down quite amusing. “ Looks like he’s happy to see you again. “

He tries not to laugh at that. There’s always a reply, some quick and candid retort hanging off the tip of her tongue, ready to fire. That’s typical too, isn’t it? Of course it is. This is Ritsuka, after all. Time can change so much for some, but there are parts that will never shift, no matter how long its been. 

But try as hard as he may, Roman can’t stop himself from quirking a quiet smile at the scene, at her. Fou’s eccentric little coat only makes it worse. There’s a soft pang of something sad, of things once missed and gone, but it’s covered in snow and the comfortable warmth of seeing them smiling. Happy. That’s how it should be, should always have been. 

“Uh huh. If you say so, Ritsuka.” He won’t argue there, if only because he doesn’t really know the details of Russia ( save titbits and that time he met the Tzar ). Benefit of the doubt, and all that. He’ll keep the doctor-ly attitude for when her sneezes turn to something bigger. “But jeez, someone’s been busy since last time. You’ve really taken up clothing design in your free time?  And Fou’s gone and gotten himself a job.” Which, in the long run, isn’t that surprising. From cuteness factor alone, Fou could make tonnes. Is making tonnes, probably. 

“When you said we should explore and see the sights, I kind of expected actual sights, Leonardo.” He pauses for a moment, before adding: “You better not be planning to put snow down my shirt again. Please don’t. I’m so cold right now.”

His hand touched her, light as a feather and weighted as she’d imagined Chaldeas would all at the same time. He held on, and for a moment, she felt as though her arm could crumble beneath his tenderness. His words likewise. Just how resolute he was; the iron cast heart that beat behind a front of bumbling and light-hearted. A man who dedicated his entire human life to one cause, and saw it through, even though the cost were himself. Just like Ritsuka. If she was lost, would that really be humanity saved? Or would her sacrifice be a matter of buying time? A whole year… so many days and yet so brief as it breezed by in a blur. Something looked back upon and asked where the time went, almost as though it were a dream.

“Senpai said the same thing”. She’d gone so far as to threaten punching him if he were to prove them wrong. Mashu never lost faith in him, but in herself, and feared that reflection shine through on him. When their methods ran like parallel lines. When she questioned if Chaldea had any right to commit the atrocities they did. When she yearned for Ritsuka to be more than that beautiful, transient moment she envisioned in herself whilst breaching her limit in front of him. That must have been why it was a figment of him, a Goetia who existed inside her head, who sowed the seeds of questioning what she was. What she could become. If they were even more alike than she understood. Putting aside the Beast IV fears, she’d been hesitant to face him before the mists brought them together in the echo of London, where the Mage King’s corpse flew. Where Roman’s nightmares doubled. “I think… it’s me pushing feelings of disappointment in myself onto him. He didn’t judge us for taking this path in Atlantis. But… how could he have confidence entrusting the future to us now? I’m just a shadow of the girl who took on his Noble Phantasm and burned out. And if we lose Senpai…” The battle to maintain composure had forever been uphill since that June morning; so often words faded into silence, lumps that clogged her throat and forced downward only to fight back the visual giveaways to emptiness and grief, tears swelled with threat to spill over as they breached their dam.

She wanted so much to talk with Goetia about what he knew. If there might be a key to solving the puzzle which had been laid in his hands. But she was afraid to face him. Afraid to test that Servant’s scolding. Afraid that pushing further than she knew would invoke the Stars’ sadistic game once more. It was lose-lose, whatever the route and whatever the outcome. ‘I don’t know what to do about Ritsuka’. If she chased, would she be met only with confirmation that her worst nightmares were lying in wait? The blissful ignorance — or as close to it as they had guarded — abandoned to a point of no return, unable to live with hope, no matter how feeble the flickering candlelight.

In his hand, her wrist turn, and fingers closed around his. “Was this what you felt every time you saw us off? Every day, I dread it. That she lives through another Lostbelt, the last one, and we lose her. That here becomes a sanctuary for her ghost, the way you, Da Vinci and Olga Marie are only here. She’s in so much pain, she gives up so much to everyone else, she’s gone so far past the limit of any human. But she keeps going anyway. I’ve tried to think of everything, but… but… I think she’s just too tired”. Like she didn’t want to be saved. Her face crumpled; violet retreating behind their last defences, lips twisted into a jagged trail across. “She said she doesn’t want to keep standing by and letting everyone else fight, but she’s doing so much. And I abandoned her. I hurt her more than anyone else because I thought getting away would keep her safe. But that was never going to happen. I felt like I was suffocating her and then…” The hand separate turned as its twin, fingers quivered and curled into a fist in search of a means to let loose the overflowing guilt, if it could only be driving nails into her own palm.

“Because I wasn’t careful enough, she got killed. She died somewhere in Savior’s Respite. The Mashu who went through the Grand Order with her could have stopped all of this. She wouldn’t have been so careless. She would have kept going strong". She took in his words, rearranged them a hundred-thousand times to find something. A way. The way he spoke of. The face cast up toward him was like that of a lost puppy, uncertain which direction would take it home, back to the people who loved it, back to safety.

“How do I?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, a hint of pleading for an answer he could never have. Not this time. “The only way we’ve seen ahead is to reject the Lostbelts, but doing that is burning her away as well. All of Team A. It’s like… no-one else is going to survive”. And she’d face that empty world alone, the corpses of Chaldea strewn across the canvas behind. “I want to find another way. I have to. It feels so impossible to find”. The fingers circling his wrist squeezed; she’d spoken of feeling a mere fraction of the Shielder she’d once been, her falling apart tantamount to weakness. But she just nodded. He wasn’t a liar, and she knew she was being far too hard on herself. The past few months, the most recent in particular, had simply been so much to process, and left her feeling frail. The girl who told him she hadn’t any concerns about her own lifespan, faced death and apocalypse head-on without hesitation, it was debatable if she were alive.

Of course Ritsuka would. She-- actually, he’s not sure how things went after his ending at the Temple, but he has some ideas. Of them, a passing of understanding between the first Beast and the last Master. Maybe. It’s not as if he can get them in the same room these days. “You should ask him. Goetia’s a little gruff around the edges, but he’s not going to lie to you about anything, you know. Of all the people here, I think you’d understand him the best and vice versa.” It brings to mind siblings, or something like that.

But this isn’t about Goetia. This is about Mashu and her worries, the way they build behind the wall of time and her own self-control. “Really? Just a shadow? I see the same girl I did, all those years ago. The same resolute girl who stood at the Temple of Time and didn’t flinch.” A little older and much more wiser, but the same Mashu Kyrielight still. Time can erode a good number of things from the world, but people -- the way people are, the core of themselves -- rarely shifts all that much. Time can run its fingers through Mashu’s hair, force her to frown, bring forth worry lines to her soft face, but he sees her just as he left her. It brings a smile to Roman’s face, small and quiet.

Then his smiles wavers for a moment. “Something like that. It was-- ah, like a stone in the back of my throat. I was always hopeful for your missions, but the coward in me always expected the worst. I still do. Some habits die hard, even after death.” But he understands that fear. That long, dark streak of terror that’s nestled in her heart like a splinter. It’ll fester over time if it isn’t plucked and treated, transforming to an infection of the soul. But there’s little he can offer in that moment, for either Mashu or Ritsuka. He’s six lostbelts behind, still at his end point. A ghost can only do so much for the living; it lies with them to make their choices and hold themselves to it, bitter though the thought is.

For a moment Roman lets go, and that anchor shifts marginally; the storm too strong to hold that ship in place. Then his hands fold carefully over Mashu’s own, the weight of his fingers pressing into the softness of her hands, like the pull of a blanket around a child before bed. Here is safety. Here is something he can do. There are new callouses there, new memories, new scars he isn’t aware of. But they are the same hands; still small, still young, still Mashu’s. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Still the same young girl, new and bright. Still the same Fujimaru Ritsuka, brash and resolute. There’s a crumb of worry in Roman’s heart, outweighed by the insistent beat of comfort and the warmth of hope it gives.

“You’ve been through this six more times then I have, but the way I see it... There are multiple possibilities out there, Mashu. Sometimes we pick one and we think it’s correct. The only way. But later, down the line, we find other ways to change the status quo. There’s always hope for those who look for it. There’s always something more out there, just waiting to be discovered and help. Be cautious, and be brave. I trust you all to do what you think is right on the matter.

Don’t look at me like that!

“I— I don’t know! I didn’t know there could be anything sinful about fruit before today! Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t know what it is! Ask them”. She’s pointing accusingly at the Tales.

“So that’s a no.

At least tell me Goetia doesn’t enjoy any of them. The fruit he takes is purely for innocent purposes, yes? Yes. Please be yes".

“W-wha? What kind of question is that? 

I mean, what else would be be doing with all of that fruit? Make a smoothie? Is this some new age meme I’m not up to date with yet? Mashu please don’t look at me like that.”

Innocent? Innocent purposes? What does--. Oh. Oh.

“Fruit can be not safe for work? Is it advisable to research eggplant jokes… as a precaution?”

    snow angels. fun to make, for who doesn’t like playing in the snow? the one downside to that was that chilled feeling that always came after spending a bit too long in the snow. and while Ritsuka knows their use isn’t meant for this…..she finally found a use for that Arctic Mystic Code after so long. the sight of her in a skirt and laying in the snow may be surprising, but she doesn’t really feel the cold. after all, the black uniform was made to withstand the frigid temperatures of Russia and Scandinavia. the winter of Radiale was child’s play compared to that.

      ….she should get up, though. Ritsuka is vaguely aware she’s been laying in the snow for about twenty minutes, her snow angel already long since done. Fou remains seated upon her chest, his specially made coat on. “ Don’t wanna make any fou-angels?” her inquiry is met with a tilt of his head and a few choice sounds. “ Pffft, as fluffy as you are, I doubt you’d get cold that fast.”

  she thought it’d be wierd, now knowing that Fou was formerly Beast IV. but he had always been a friend since she joined Chaldea, so nothing changed. sighing, Ritsuka closes her eyes, sitting in the silence a bit longer. only when the light above her is suddenly blocked out by a shadow that her brows furrow. it didn’t feel like a Servant… probably another concerned passerby. time to repeat what she’s been saying numerous times now. “ No, I’m not cold. Yes, I know I have a skirt on. No, I don’t need help. Yes, you can move out my light. I’m trying to tan here.” a joke. it was a joke.

This is typical. Beyond typical, actually. It’s snowing, so of course she’s out enjoying it; make snow angels, of all things. So she should -- it wasn’t as if Chaldea’s climate allowed for them back in the day, and Singularities never had a moment’s respite for much fun. Here, in this precarious moment, Ritsuka looks her age. She looks young, and happy, and free; no burden, no weight of the world. Just a girl in the snow. And when she speaks, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. 

“No, I know. That’s the Mystic Code Da Vinci had in production, right? I always wondered when it would get some use, but I didn’t expect it here. Well, better late than never, I suppose.” Somewhere out there, Leonardo’s laughing her head off. He can almost hear the perfect tones of her snide and perfect voice having a field day with this -- every part of it. The echo of her memory brings a smile to his face, made real by Ritsuka in the snow. And Fou, of course.