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Breakfast
Emiya had thought he’d seen it all: a Holy Grail war as a teenager, countless battles and deaths as an adult, and various wars after he’d breathed his last. Justice never rested and so neither did he, his life and death dedicated to the pursuit of an ideal that had never really existed.
And then the world ended.
And then he got summoned to Chaldea, by an ambitionless master who already had a dozen other servants under her belt. Who had at least six other Archers on the roster, so he had to get used to people calling him by a name he thought he’d long thrown away.
Yet, Emiya could get used to that. The situation was unusual, but his life had been too.
No, the hardest part of his new life here were the ghosts of his past, the facsimiles of people he knew wandering through the halls. Rin, Sakura, his father, Saber; he had not seen any of their faces since childhood, and yet it only took a second and he was a teenager again, grappling with the unknown.
If it were up to him, he would stay in his room until summoned, stay away from all the unwanted feelings of it all.
Unfortunately, life was not fair, especially not his. Chaldea had a food problem—there were too many big eaters and not enough cooks. As much as he’d prefer to turn a blind eye, there were children running through the halls and he couldn’t let them starve over something as petty as an upset heart.
Especially not the kid standing in front of him right now. Lily Artoria bounced excitedly as she stared at the morning menu, her meal tray clasped to her chest as she considered her options. If there was one thing Emiya had learned from his time here, it was that no matter how old Artoria was, no matter what universe she came from, she was always hungry enough to eat a country.
Half of Chaldea’s food shortages were because his new master had the unfortunate luck of summoning not one, not two, but nine different versions of her.
Emiya had not known that even three different versions of anyone could exist, let alone nine. Then again, he’d once fought his younger self, so who was he to talk?
Still, nine was excessive. Emiya looked across the cafeteria, to the overcrowded table laden with food. There were only three of them there right now—the sword-wielding Artoria he was familiar with, a darkly-dressed lancer version of her, and then one that insisted on dressing like a bunny for some godforsaken reason. Even with three, the table looked like it was hosting a feast. Behind him, Emiya could hear Tamamo and his other kitchen help wheezing as they rushed around, trying to fulfill all their orders.
When the rest of them arrived, it would be pure chaos. And that wasn’t even including all the versions of Artoria’s son, who seemed to have inherited her appetite if not her manners.
As though sensing his gaze, the sword-wielding Artoria raised her head, locking eyes with him. Emiya jerked his head away. She was the hardest one to deal with—she looked too similar to the Artoria he’d summoned, to the one he’d fought. Was she either of those? Did she remember?
Was she the one he couldn’t save?
“Emiya?”
Lily Artoria’s voice broke through his thoughts and he looked down to find her looking at him inquisitively. Pinching his thigh, he shoved away those useless thoughts. There was no point in thinking about that now. “What did you want?”
“A dozen sausages, three eggs, two muffins, four slices of toast, strawberry jam, and marmalade,” Lily rattled off, like it was a grocery list, like she was in a five-star restaurant and he was her server. Even at this age, she handled herself like a king. “Are you okay?”
He hadn’t expected the last question. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Lily pressed the tray closer to her chest and shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Despite her nervousness, her eyes were clear and determined as she pressed, “You’re always like this when we’re here.”
Had he really been that obvious? “Like what?”
“Pensive. Distant.” Lily frowned. “Do you hate us?”
“No.” The response was automatic, his lips moving before he even considered the question.
“Oh.” She twisted her lips, mulling over the situation. “Then what is it? It has to be something. Can I help?”
She was bright and earnest and almost entirely too eager. While he could find traces of the other Artorias in Lily, in the firmness of her stance, the determination in her expression, the honesty on her lips, Emiya had never been able to find her in her grown-up forms. At some point, this innocence had died.
At some point, Artoria had seen too much, done too much.
If you could stay like this, he almost thought, but that was a fantasy wrapped up in a wish. It was an impossibility. The possible avenues of her future existed in Chaldea, but they all meant the same thing: there was little happiness for her.
And Emiya had never been one to indulge in a fantasy.
“Could you get one of them to help with the dishes when they’re done eating?” he finally said. “We almost have none left for the breakfast rush.”
“Yes!” Lily stood a little straighter and nodded eagerly. “I can do that!”
She spun on her heel, making a beeline to the door when Mordred stepped in. Her son never had a chance—as much as Mordred pretended that she didn’t want anything to do with her father, she was like putty before Lily’s hands.
Especially when Lily had them sit next to each other.
In another time, Mordred would be instrumental in Artoria’s death. In this, they could share breakfast.
A fantasy given flesh.
Lunch
Emiya wasn’t sure what would horrify Rin more about the goddess currently claiming her body: the exposed flesh, the pathetic whine, or the way she often ran away like a c-grade villain. Actually, he did know, and it was the way Ishtar screwed up everything she ever attempted. If there was one thing Rin hated above all else, it was mediocrity.
Maybe that was the reason Rin was currently asleep inside while Ishtar took full command of her body: embarrassment.
Even right now, when Ishtar was merely sighing heavily as she studied the menu, Emiya was certain that the failure of a goddess had an idiotic plan and an even more idiotic method to carry it out. It was only lunch. That only made it more likely.
“I’ll take the special,” Ereshkigal softly ordered, her hands clasped in front of her.
Emiya tore his eyes away from Ishtar and nodded. “It’ll be right out.”
The goddess in front of him beamed. She was the inverted image of Ishtar, in more than just looks. There was a quiet dignity to Ereshkigal, one that was utterly lacking in Ishtar. She gave off the feeling Emiya had expected when meeting a goddess.
Then again, perhaps the thing Rin would boast about the most was that multiple goddesses were using her as a host. As expected of someone like me, she’d crow.
Ishtar sighed again.
Ereshkigal rolled her eyes. “She just wants attention.”
“I can tell,” he replied flatly. “I’ve been trying to ignore her.”
“You can try, but she makes it impossible.” Ereshkigal ran a hand through her hair, the action so familiar his breath hitched. “She’s always been a brat, even more so now.” Her finger tapped her chest and her expression softened. “An extra influence.”
“I’m not surprised.” He knew without looking his own expression had softened and Emiya turned away before she could notice. Ishtar peeked at him again, watching him from the corner of her eyes as she fiddled with her thumbs. When she sighed again, pointedly, he grunted.
He might as well give in. She’d hold up the line otherwise. “You going to order?”
“Yeah…” Ishtar sauntered up to the counter like she was walking the catwalk, hips swaying, hair flowing. She smiled prettily, batting her eyes and parting her lips and he knew exactly what she was after before she even spoke. “Say, do you—”
“No.” It was firm, it was immediate, and it was blunt.
“Hey!” Ishtar scowled, stomping her foot. “I didn’t even ask yet!”
He shrugged. “Either way, no. You want food or not?”
“Everyone knows it’s trouble with you,” Ereshkigal pointed out unhelpfully. It was like tossing gasoline to a flame. Maybe he should make a rule that they couldn’t eat together.
“Shut it, you!” Ishtar turned her glare to Ereshkigal. “And it isn’t trouble this time.” She looked back at him. “Come on, you have to hear me out!”
Her persistence was similar to Rin’s, if more pathetic. Emiya crossed his arms. “It’s going to be something stupid and dangerous. No.”
“What if it wasn’t stupid?” Ishtar smiled winningly, as though that solved the issue.
“So it’s dangerous?” Emiya snorted. He could count the ruined summers that came from Ishtar’s petty drive for vengeance and greed. At the very least, she hadn’t harmed herself yet. He eyed her and muttered, “Try to be careful. You can’t hurt your host, right?”
Immediately, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Ishtar smiled slyly. “Worried about me?”
He glowered. “Not at all.”
She rested her hand on her hips. “Hmph. You should just lie.” Her voice gentled as she pressed a hand to her chest. “Then, worried about the one inside?” Ishtar regarded him softly, for once looking like a proper goddess. “She might be asleep, but she seems to worry about you too.”
“I’ve felt it too.” Ereshkigal curled her hand in her chest. It was rare enough that she and Ishtar got along, rarer still that they agreed. “There’s a dull ache whenever I look at you or…” She glanced across the dining room, to where Parvati was knitting. “The other one.”
He could guess why. He felt that same ache whenever Parvati smiled. Both goddesses were looking at him, and he could almost see Rin behind them. Emiya looked away. “I’m not worried.”
“Oh?” Ishtar asked, not buying it for a second. “Then what?”
“It’s a debt.” That was the simplest, easiest way to explain himself. The simplest, easiest way to hide everything. “I still owe her.”
“Is that what you call it?” Ereshkigal chided. “Even now, you can’t be honest.”
“If he could, he wouldn’t be in this mess, would he?” Ishtar sighed. She leaned over the counter and poked his chest. “But you should try and relax sometimes. For her. I don’t want to carry this heavy feeling around with me all day.”
Her finger shouldn’t have felt as heavy as it did. Quietly, he rasped, “I’ll try.”
“Good boy. And now that we got that out of the way…” Ishtar rubbed her hands together and smirked greedily. The goddess was gone, leaving behind a cartoon villain. “Do you think you could cater for my next event?”
Ereshkigal groaned.
Emiya ignored her and called out, “Next!”
Dinner
If Ishtar was a failure of a goddess, Parvati was the pinnacle embodiment of one. Her steps were light as she crossed the dining hall, her smile gentle as she set the tray on the counter, and her voice was as soft as a cloud as she thanked him. “Dinner was lovely as usual.”
Her posture was perfect, her touch dainty. Artoria had the regality of a king, and Parvati that of a queen.
Emiya accepted the tray and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“Even so, every action deserves to be acknowledged and appreciated at least.” Parvati studied him, her gaze running up and down him before settling on his face. “Have we met before?”
“At lunch,” he replied shortly, not liking where this was going.
She giggled into her hand. “No, that’s not what I meant. Though, I don’t think I met you either…Oh, perhaps you and the little one inside of me?”
His breath hitched and he turned away, taking the tray to the sink. “No. Never.”
“Hmmm, if you say so.” When he looked over her shoulder, her smile told him otherwise. She was a goddess. It wasn’t surprising she could see through his lies. “You’re always short on cooks.”
“Not always,” he denied, wiping his hands on his apron. “Just when the crowd is here.”
“That’s quite often, is it not?” Parvati clapped her hands together. “I know, I’ll help.”
Emiya spun on his heel and stared at her. “You’ll what?”
“Help.” Parvati smiled brightly. She patted her chest. “She has fond feelings towards cooking and it’s been far too long since I’ve last stepped into a kitchen.”
“That…” Emiya ran a hand through his hair. A goddess working in the kitchen felt like a taboo. Then again, they had goddesses fighting at the whims of a mortal, so perhaps this wasn’t as much of a step down as it seemed.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, cocking her head, her hands clasped behind her back.
He could almost see Sakura in her movements. “No. Go ahead.”
“Great. Tomorrow then.” Parvati smiled brightly. “This is exciting.”
“Is…is she happy?” He couldn’t stop the words. Maybe it was nostalgia that forced him to ask. It had been decades, and even now Emiya could remember the faint smell of cherry blossoms and soap as they washed the dishes together.
Even now he could remember the troubled smile he had never been able to ease.
Parvati smiled kindly. “The little one’s in…I suppose you could call it a deep sleep. It’s hard to be happy in that state.”
“Oh.” Emiya looked away. He should have known better than to ask. “Right.”
“But,” Parvati continued, leaning over the counter to clasp his hands before he could withdraw. Her hands were soft but firm. “It is a peaceful slumber. There’s no sorrow or pain in this sleep, just a deep, dreamless darkness. She can recover here. Rest. Heal.”
It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but Emiya’s life had never been satisfying in the first place. He looked down at their clasped hands, then up at the goddess. Her expression was thoughtful. Kind.
Her smile before had radiated of a happiness he’d rarely seen in Sakura.
Emiya didn’t know what would happen after their master was done, after all the servants were returned to the throne. But he hoped Sakura would remember this peace wherever she went.
Dessert
Out of all the servants here, the one Emiya avoided the most was his father. No, not quite his father—the Kiritsugu stalking Chaldea’s halls little resembled the man he’d known. This was Kiritsugu before they’d met, this was the man who still spent most of his days covered in blood. Seeing him, Emiya understood why his father had always looked troubled when Emiya had called him a hero, why he had looked sad whenever he remembered the past.
Still, the assassin had softened recently, in no small part thanks to the woman and teenager clasping his hands as they entered the cafeteria. Emiya watched as the pair of platinum blondes tugged Kiritsugu over to a table. While he was still expressionless, his eyes were softer, his lips tugged into the semblance of a smile.
For his part, Emiya didn’t know what to make of the two women. They looked almost like carbon copies of one another, only separated by age. For a while, he had thought they were the same person, but summoned at different times like Lily Artoria.
The older one called herself Irisviel, and if Kiritsugu often acted like he was dead, she looked like a ghost.
The younger one called herself Illya.
A cheerful, magical girl Illya.
Even now, as she ran over to the counter, her smile bright, her eyes wide, he could only remember the deadly master who had tried to murder him with Hercules. How was it possible for two timelines to be so different? How was it possible that they were the same person?
“Can I get three cheesecakes?” Illya asked eagerly, bouncing on her feet as she stared at the selections available. “Strawberry, chocolate, and…umm…blueberry!”
“Sure.” Emiya pulled out three plates from under the counter, the ceramic warm on his hands. All three of them came for dessert every day, and he knew already that the other two would eat only half of their slice, saving the rest for their daughter.
His sister, in a strange way. Could they have ever been friends, let alone family?
“You’re always overworked, aren’t you?” Illya asked, concerned. Her eyes were wide and bright. “I hope you get a vacation soon.”
It was strange to hear that from Illya of all people. He felt a pang of pity for the girl he’d known. Emiya carefully slid a strawberry slice onto a plate. “Hopefully.”
“Too bad my brother isn’t here with me.” Illya pumped her fists energetically. “He could help. He’s great in the kitchen.”
“Is he now?” Emiya almost choked on the words.
And if seeing Illya like this was strange, it was stranger still to think that in another life, they would have been siblings. That in another life, Kiritsugu would have been a doting husband and Irisiviel a warm mother. That in another life, they could have both been his parents.
That in Illya’s life, they were.
“Don’t worry,” Illya reassured. She dabbed a finger on the chocolate cheesecake and licked the frosting. “When he comes here, he’ll help.”
“What makes you think he’ll come?” Emiya asked, curiosity piqued as he gave her the last slice.
“Because he’s a hero!” Illya replied immediately, beaming like the sun.
Emiya didn’t know if he should be happy or sad to think that in another life, maybe he had been a hero. A real hero.
Bonus: Midnight Snack
Even for a workaholic like him, Emiya liked to keep certain hours. The cafeteria opened at six. It closed at midnight. No exceptions.
“E-mi-ya!” a sing-song voice filled the hallway.
No exceptions except one: Jaguar. Emiya felt a chill run through him as he heard Jaguar laugh drunkenly as she sprinted across the hall. Before he could turn around, she pounced, an arm draping around his shoulders, the other grabbing his hand before he could pull the key out of the cafeteria doors.
For such a short woman, she had immense strength.
Jaguar grinned up at him. “Let’s go drinking.”
If everyone else he’d met here were somewhat different than the versions he’d known, Jaguar wasn’t at all. Fujiwara’s image overlapped on her entirely and not in a good way. Emiya grunted. “I’d rather not.”
“You’re old enough now, right?” Her question sounded more like a statement. It was hard to tell from her goofy smile just who was asking that question. “It’s just a drink!”
“You’re already drunk,” he grumbled as she forced him to unlock the cafeteria.
“Don’t worry.” She slapped his back before skipping into the room. “I can handle my booze.”
Experience told Emiya otherwise. It was going to be a long night.