it’s nothing of significance, really. it’s no grand weapon to help her defend and protect, it’s nothing like that. but it is something that has meaning and something that Ritsuka believes is better off in her hands. and so she holds out the yellow scrunchie to the Shielder (the one that had been so carefully cleaned and repaired by still an unknown) with a gentle smile on her lips. “ Here. I want you to have this.” to many, it’s just a hair tie. nobody knows how it is one her father had given her, how it is one she never took off, how it is perhaps one of the last remaining remnants of her blood family. and few understand that it also represented both a form of innocence and a piece of a past that needed to be moved on from. not discarded, not forgotten, but tenderly placed aside as a relic of a time no longer.
“ It didn’t feel right….letting it sit in my drawer to collect dust.” she chuckles softly, a hand raising to sweep fingers through her hair. loose, no longer held up and contained. “ And I could think of nobody better to hold onto it. ” there was nobody better, for who else had been with her from the start? from that very moment in the destroyed command room, all the way through the horrors of the lostbelts, of this world? "Take good care of it, yeah?“
At first, she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. The fabric in Ritsuka’s hand had been with her from the very first day, any number before her arrival at Chaldea. She’d never been without it — not until recently. The decision to hang her hair loose days after receiving it back hadn’t been questioned, Mashu was hesitant to learn the answer, but there was one. Ritsuka wasn’t one who simply let go, she treasured everything. Confusion swept her brow, an attempt to ask if the Master was really sure, but there was only silence.
A laugh, gentle and delicate, answered first, a comfort in letting her hair free as her fingers would glide through. Mashu’s hands cupped the gift laid within their cradle, as careful as if grains of sand filled them, and one wrong move would send them spinning out. She couldn’t understand the significance of the item, its history, its symbolism, but one thing was clear. One constant. The scrunchie was Fujimaru Ritsuka. It was the golden shine in her eyes, the beaming smile that warmed her, it was the brightness of her soul. Mashu knew all had been affected and drained throughout their journey, and none could emulate the radiance of piece. But it was still her. Then, now, it was still Ritsuka. She was still Ritsuka.
And this wasn’t an act of her giving herself up to their mission, it wasn’t a sacrifice. It was a gift. It was her wish to safeguard.
The cradle grew closer, nestled against her chest wherein the heart so oft ached in turmoil had grown intense in emotion once more. Warm, but without pain. Swelled with gratitude and affection. Tears trickled over, absent of grief and apprehension. Warm with relief and comfort. Even when not physically by her side, Ritsuka would be there. Always.
“I will. I will, I promise! Thank you, Senpai”. It needn’t be a grand weapon nor anything elaborate. It was a treasure exceeding the power of words. It was all she could have wanted. It was Ritsuka.
