MMMS 119

“No. All the enemy Servants are gone. That lightning strike probably just hit the main generator. Power outage.”

“I see.”

Artoria slowly settled back into the bathtub, ripples circling out from her body as she exhaled. Her stance eased, but the darkness around them still felt heavy—quiet, uncertain.

“The castle should have backup generators,” he said. “It’ll light up again once Iri switches them on.”

Then, after a pause, he added, “…Speaking of which, your eyes are bright.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

She turned toward him and realized what he meant. In the dim, powerless bathroom, her body was barely visible—but her eyes…

They shimmered in the dark like fireflies. Soft gold, glowing faintly. Not quite human.

“Yes, that’s from the Holy Lance,” she explained. “The divine attribute it carries… some call it a form of deification. These eyes are proof that I’ve crossed the boundary. I don’t really belong to humanity anymore.”

“Ah, I get it now,” he said with a grin. “So you and I are the same type.”

She tilted her head slightly. “…Same type?”

“Yeah. I used to be human too.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“…Eh?”

Even in the dark, he could hear her eyes widen.

“You were human, Master?” she said, incredulous. “How is that even possible…?”

She’d heard myths. Of dragons born from twisted human desire. But this was different. The Beast—Beast VI, the harbinger of humanity’s downfall—being human? That was unbelievable.

“It’s true,” he said casually, rinsing the last of the shampoo from his hair. “Not sure when I stopped being one, but I remember what it was like. I had a normal life once.”

And then he began to tell her.

About the tunnel beneath Tokyo.

About the mud that had taken root in its depths.

And the strange, dreamlike journey that led him to replace it.

He left nothing out—not the fear, not the confusion, not even the part where he didn’t fully understand how or why he’d survived.

By the time he finished, the steam had cooled and the shadows felt heavier.

Artoria had gone completely still.

“…So those things happened,” she whispered.

Her mind swirled.

This wasn’t the story of a monster. This wasn’t a myth about evil rising from sin. This was a boy—a normal boy—who had descended into something unimaginable… and somehow, come back with the strength to stop it.

If not for him, Tokyo might have already been reduced to ash by the Beast.

And he didn’t even realize it—completely unaware that he had actually saved the world.

“Master, you idiot.”

“…Eh!? Why am I getting scolded now?”

She turned her head with a short huff, crossing her arms over the edge of the tub.

“Because you make me feel like an idiot,” she muttered. “Worrying about things that don’t matter…”

“…Huh?”

Still confused, he turned on the showerhead, expecting a warm rinse to finish the job.

A second later—

Clatter.

The water hit his skin like ice knives.

“…Ugh.”

The breath caught in his throat, and he shivered hard.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lancer,” he said, voice slightly trembling, “can I join you in the tub? The power’s still out, and only cold water’s coming from the pipes.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

Then—

“…Well, fine. But keep your hands where they belong.”

“Understood.” he beamed and carefully stepped into the bath, easing down into the water across from her.

“Sorry about this… Lancer,” he added, adjusting his posture as he curled up in the narrow space. His back gently pressed against her knees, and the soft contact sent a small ripple across the surface of the water.

“Mm… yes. It’s fine,” she said, trying to sound composed. “Can’t let Master catch cold, after all.” She gave a tiny nod, as if trying to convince herself. Though privately, she wondered—

Can a Beast even catch a cold?

The silence stretched. The bathwater shifted quietly around them. In the pitch dark, everything felt closer. Heavier.

“…Um. Master?” she said after a moment, her voice barely above the sound of water lapping the edges of the tub. “You’re not using a spell to enhance your eyesight… are you?”

She kept her face turned away, but she stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye.

His profile glowed faintly in the dark. Damp bangs clung to his forehead. Somehow, even without seeing him clearly, she could feel his smile.

“Of course not,” Ryuuto said. Though in the back of his mind, he added, If it were a spell for enhanced senses—say, three thousand times sensitivity… I might be tempted.

Not that it was needed anymore.

With his vision dulled by darkness, the rest of his senses had picked up the slack. Every faint sound was sharper. Every subtle shift in the water echoed louder. And her scent—

Light, clean, and quietly feminine.

A warm note of skin and soap and something else—something uniquely her.

Just sharing this space with her, skin barely touching through the water, made it hard to think about anything else.

Outside the window, the sound of rain pattered gently against the glass—soft, steady, almost musical.

Inside the small bathroom, surrounded by steam and fading warmth, he felt a different kind of comfort. The water temperature was just right. The pressure behind his back was even better.

Two soft, perfectly shaped reminders that the person sharing the tub with him was not just a knight, but a woman—one with divine proportions.

And so, his so-called sage mode came to a quiet and tragic end.

“…”

The silence grew heavier, but then Artoria cleared her throat and broke it. “Master… let me finish rinsing your hair for you.”

“Sure,” he said, trying his best to sound neutral.

With his permission granted, she leaned forward. The movement brought her chest flush against his back in the cramped tub, and the ripple of warm water between them made it impossible to ignore just how close they now were.

“…So heavy,” he murmured under his breath.

“Th-this can’t be helped!” she snapped, cheeks glowing scarlet. “It’s not like I asked for this kind of body! Ugh—this is all Rhongomyniad’s fault! And Merlin’s!”

Her fingers, now working shampoo into his hair, started to press harder—borderline punitive.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” he replied calmly. “In fact… thank you, Merlin.”

“Ah? Really now!?” she pouted. “Then I’ll crush you!”

With her pride now fully ignited, the flustered King of Knights leaned her full weight forward—deliberately—flattening her soft figure against his back with an audible slosh of water. “Master, you perverted little brat… always teasing adults!”

“Oh… o-oh… ohh—”

Under the lion’s divine pressure, the beast trembled. Not from pain. But from deep, wordless gratitude.

‘Much obliged.’

By the time the bathwater cooled, the power still hadn’t returned.

And somewhere, in another wing of the castle, Irisviel was definitely taking her sweet time with the backup generator.

‘Good job, Iri.’