Lest One Good Custom Corrupt the World (FSN/FGO Hybrid)

[Darkenning]

He'd found one.

Against all odds, through the flames and the screams of the dying, he'd managed to find a single living child here, in this wreck that was a city. Distantly, Kiritsugu wondered what he must look like to the child, who'd been reaching up towards the sky with one unsteady hand. (If not for that, he doubted that he would ever have been able to recognize that there was still a living soul in this hell.) Doubtless, he was terrifying to the child, maniacal, even, but that didn't matter. He had, despite everything, managed to save even a single life.

But unless he did something, right then and there, he would have saved that life only to see it pass quickly, and so he took hold of the scabbard, shaping it into a form to be pressed into the form of the b-

Wait. No. This was a girl.

Why had he thought the child was a boy? He must have been imagining things. She was just a tiny thing, with her reddish-orange hair done up in a side tail. How could he have ever thought ... it didn't matter, girl or boy, he had to save this child. He pushed the scabbard into her most serious wound, merging it with her body. It would heal the injuries that might claim her life, so that he could take her somewhere safe. And then –

No. There was no more 'and then'. He would save this child. That was all there was to it.

---

Fate/stay Night/grand Order:
Lest One Good Custom Should Corrupt the World

---

A week or so passed, as Fuyuki slowly dragged itself out of the hell that it had plunged into. The city was starting to heal, just as the girl was healing, too. It was a nice analogy. It kept him from thinking about what was going to come next.

Today was the first day that her bandages were going to come off, and she'd be able to eat normally, instead of being spoon fed by a nurse. Also, the first day she was permitted visitors. He'd been watching her from afar before that, of course, but this would be their first meeting since then. And as then, he wondered what she must be thinking as she saw him entering her room, this figure with uncombed hair and a wrinkled coat associated with what he imagined must have been the worst day of her life thus far. (If there'd been a worse one, he didn't want to imagine it.)

It was impossible to tell what she was thinking from the look on her face as she looked back at him, though, so he pressed on. "Hello," he said. "You must be Ritsuka-chan."

She nodded, slowly. Forget what he looked like, what must he sound like? That had to be the most awkward greeting anyone had ever given. And he was aware of how gruff and unfriendly he must sound, despite the way that he was trying to seem sincere. He had no talent for this, at all. But he had to press on, in order to take responsibility for saving the girl's life. "I'll ask you directly. Which would you prefer, to go to an orphanage, or to be adopted by this man you've never met before?"

She blinked. "Are you a relative of mine?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. You and I are perfect strangers to each other." He honestly wasn't sure what answer he wanted. Either answer would be somewhat painful, in different ways, and he'd lately had the fact that he was terrible at making decisions driven home to him. Pushing the burden of the choice onto her shoulders wasn't much better, but that was what he'd done all the same. And she was clearly taking her time to think about it. Maybe he should step back and tell her that she could have all the time she needed to think it over, and –

"I'll go with you," she said, in a clear, calm voice.

"I see, that's good," he replied, since he imagined that was what she wanted to hear, and he was stunned by her complete equanimity and couldn't come up with anything more appropriate. "Get ready quickly, then. You should get used to your new home as soon as possible." Of course, she was not going to be just allowed to leave the hospital immediately, but he could gather up her few possessions so that they'd be waiting for her when she could leave. He did that, conscious that he didn't have any talent at packing, conscious that he'd always relied on someone who wasn't there anymore and never would be for that sort of thing. He felt her gaze upon him the whole while and was certain that she must have so many questions that she wasn't asking.

Ah, he thought. And there was also a question she couldn't possibly have that she should probably have answered. "Oh, I forgot to mention something important. I should tell you one thing before you come with me. All right. Um, well, basically I'm a magus." He smiled, expecting her to laugh at how ridiculous that idea was.

"Oh," she said. "Okay then. So was my mom."

He blinked. "Okay then," he repeated her phrasing. It was an odd surprise, but not a particularly unwelcome one. It would certainly make things somewhat easier.

And so Fujimaru Ritsuka became Emiya Ritsuka, and things were the same as they might otherwise have been.

And if you believe that, you'll believe anything.

Author's Notes: Ritsuka apparently means 'good law', which is close enough to 'good custom' for my purposes. She does not have a Sword origin.

 

[Darkenning]

And then she woke up.

In stories she'd read – not that she'd read very many, for she was not all that literarily-minded – when a character awoke, particularly suddenly, the substance of whatever dream they'd just been having would vanish like morning mist. This had never been her experience of things. The dreams that she'd always dreamed stayed with her long after she'd awakened, sometimes troubling her, sometimes comforting. It was a bit worrying, really, that she dwelled on such matters instead of what was before her at any given moment. But it was hardly the most bewildering thing about her dreams. That dubious pride of place belonged to the way that, when her dreams took her back to her own past, she was always dreaming of being observed by others, not the one doing the observing. Which made no real sense, but --

"Senpai, are you awake?"

Ritsuka opened her eyes and gazed blearily at the source of the question. Said question arose from a somewhat nervous looking girl, just a touch taller than Ritsuka herself, with long purply-black hair and eyes to match, leaning in through the open doorway of the shed behind the Emiya house and looking down at Ritsuka.

Wait, thought Ritsuka. Wait wait wait. Something seems odd about that observation. How is it that I can see Sakura looking through the open doorway of the shed behind the house if I just woke up? An answer to this conundrum presented itself swiftly. "Awww, nuts," she groaned as she pushed herself up off the cold cold ground. "I did it again, didn't I?

"That would seem to be the case," Sakura agreeably replied.

"Ugh," said Ritsuka as she looked down at what a night spent lying on dirty floor had done to the rather nice set of pyjamas that she'd put on the night before. "You know, it's not so much the sleepwalking that bothers me. I could deal with that if it was just that. But coming out here every time it happens? What is up with that?"

It wasn't strictly speaking a rhetorical question, but it wasn't one she expected to be answered, either. Sakura, as she often did, surprised her. "Is this a happy place for you, senpai?" she asked.

"No, not really. It's not happy or unhappy," Ritsuka said after a moment. "I remember being curious once about all the stuff that Kiritsugu kept dumping in here, but then I figured out that it was all just a bunch of junk. I stopped wondering about that. Hmm. Maybe that was a happier time in my life than I first thought." She shook her head. "Anyway, good morning, Sakura. Thank you for not waking me up with a blow to the head like a certain person tends to do."

"You're welcome," Sakura replied with a saintly smile.

"Right, then!" Ritsuka continued with somewhat feigned enthusiasm. "Time to make breakfast!"

"Time to get changed into something other than those dirty pyjamas while your kohai makes breakfast for you," Sakura corrected politely.

"Yessss," said the nominal owner of this residence, her smile and happiness gone forever. Or at least gone right then.

---

Are all self-proclaimed kohai this pushy, or is it just her? Ritsuka wondered as she pulled on her school uniform in the privacy of her own room. Well, okay, Sakura wasn't just a self-proclaimed kohai, she really was her underclassman, and had joined the archery club after Ritsuka had, and had asked to be taught to cook after seeing how much everyone at said club enjoyed the meals that Ritsuka had prepared during their first training camp together. But the way that she'd just so firmly inserted herself into Ritsuka's life over the last eight months was a bit startling, nonetheless. It should, by rights, be her own responsibility to make breakfast for her guests, among whom Sakura should be numbered, and yet every time she ended up oversleeping, it worked out exactly the other way around.

She'd wondered, after the first few weeks, whether Sakura might have a crush on her. Since Ritsuka had managed to get through life to this point without ever having a crush on anything other than kittens and puppies, she had no idea what that would look like, and only a complete lunatic would ask someone whether they had a crush on the complete lunatic. So Ritsuka had done what anyone would do in that situation, namely asking someone else who was familiar with the situation if they thought Sakura had a crush on her.

After Taiga had gone through two separate bouts of laughing herself sick, she'd assured Ritsuka that, no, Sakura did not have a crush on her, and that she ought to know, having been the source of endless heartbreak by men and women alike and could easily recognize the symptoms. Ritsuka, who'd learned to believe exactly half of what Taiga claimed, was a bit more than usually inclined to believe that she might be familiar with the subject with the subject, if perhaps not from the direction she was claiming. (She had also long since slotted Taiga into the mental category of 'my crazy big sister who would be just thrilled if she were my stepmom.' Of course, that was something that never was and never could be.)

Well, regardless, it was time to begin yet another day of seeing people whom she wanted to look after engaged in the process of looking after her, instead. Even Taiga's oh-so-amusing practical joke of switching her soy sauce for oyster sauce was only a distraction from the mild annoyance and malaise she felt over that. Somehow and in some way, she wanted to be the one who people looked to for guidance and assistance.

Probably it was never going to happen.

 

[Darkenning]

"Did you get the back door locked?" Sakura asked, sounding just a bit nervous on the subject.

"Yep, bolted up nicely," Ritsuka confirmed. She wondered about that note in her friend's voice, but now was probably not the time to press her about it.

"All right, then I'll take care of the front. What time are you going to be back home tonight, senpai?"

In a loose moment, Ritsuka briefly considered bursting into a rendition of Doris Day's Que Sera, Sera. Sanity reasserted itself in time for her to respond with a more appropriate level of vagueness. "Hmm, not sure. Probably going to be at the job site for a while."

Sakura nodded slowly. "All right, then. I will probably be here before you, so I'll start making dinner when I arrive."

"Okay. Sakura, is all this really worry about those gas leaks that were on the news this morning?"

Sakura blinked. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Yes, that is what I am worried about. It is so scary." She nodded much more quickly this time.

"Right," said Ritsuka. Still not the right time to press on the subject, but it seemed likely that Sakura was worried about something other than gas leaks. That she wouldn't talk about it directly wasn't all that surprising. Despite having known her almost as long as she'd known her older brother, and despite how friendly they'd become, Ritsuka had long since come to the realization that she knew surprisingly little about Sakura, that the other girl was far from opening up to her. It was a little disturbing. Then again, Ritsuka was less than forthright about her own secrets, so it wasn't as though she had any room to talk.

And they didn't have any room to talk in general as they walked through the residential district and up the long hill to their school. There weren't a lot of other students headed there at this early hour, aside from those who (like Sakura herself) had early morning practice with her club.

"Well," said Ritsuka, as the two young women arrived at the school gate. "I will see you later today, Sakura. Have fun at club."

As she was turning to head along her merry way, however, Sakura spoke up. "Would you … care to pay a visit to the dojo?" Very diffidently spoken, as though terrified of either possible answer.

Ritsuka's initial impulse was to decline the offer, however diffidently made, since ex-members of the archery club had no business visiting the dojo used by said club, and besides that, she had other things to do that morning. Buuuuut. On the other hand, encouraging this sort of thing – making requests of people, as distinct from Sakura's bad habit of pushiness – was part of her long-term agenda for the Matou Sakura Raising Project. And going along with it would help her to link up with her only real ally in the aforementioned project. Ah well, Issei could wait awhile. "All right, but I'm just going in to chat with whoever else happens to be there. I'm not going to do any practice, right?"

"No one would ask that of you, senpai," Sakura replied soothingly, somehow managing to give the impression of someone who wanted to break into extemporaneous dance without making any moves in that direction. "We all want to live."

"Well, thanks," Ritsuka grumbled after a few moments, deciding that the best way to take that was that Sakura meant that they were concerned about her losing her temper, instead of what she really did mean. Nevertheless, she ambled over to the archery range beside Sakura. Talking to Mitsuzuri wouldn't be so bad.

---

Oh, come on, what are the odds? Ritsuka thought an instant later as she entered the dojo and realized that it would in fact be so bad. Well, the problem wasn't Mitsuzuri Ayako, the archery team captain, whom she both liked and respected, despite how much trouble she'd caused for her in the past. It was the presence of the young woman with whom Ayako had just been conversing, and whom Ritsuka wanted to avoid at just about any cost, and who was now turning the stress of her regard right on her: Tohsaka Rin, honor student and local beauty. A gentle and mild-mannered presence within these hallowed walls, beloved by all and sundry. A school idol – no, a goddess, really.

And, on top of all that, the incredibly scary person who had the power of life and death over people who engaged in magic in this region without being a part of the Mage's Association, like, oh, say, Ritsuka! Discovering that the local representative of the organization that Kiritsugu had basically described as 'those with whom you should never ever have any connections' was actually a young woman only a couple months older than she herself had been a major shock when she'd figured it out a while ago, and she'd assiduously sought to avoid any possible contact with Tohsaka. And yet, here they were, face to face, a silver spoon and, well, a pewter or maybe even wooden one.

Running shrieking out of sight would, alas, cause more problems than it would solve, and so Ritsuka restrained the impulse which urged her to do just that, and painted on a smile. "Good morning, Tohsaka-san," she said in a cheerful, calm tone. "You're up early."

"Yes, I am," Tohsaka replied in the same way that someone might say, 'Hurry up and die.' "Well, I'll be going now. See you later Mitsuzuri-san."

"What, you're not going to stay and watch?" Ayako pressed, utterly oblivious to Ritsuka's attempts to psychically coerce her away from such lines of inquiry.

Tohsaka paused, then glanced in Ritsuka's direction. "Is she going to be doing any practice?" she asked, directing the question at Ayako.

"I hope to persuade her –" Ayako started to reply.

"Then definitely no," Tohsaka interrupted. "I want to live." And with that declaration she departed.

"She probably just meant that she was concerned about you losing your temper, senpai," said Sakura, after a moment.

"Riiiiight."