IBHJ 1369

Once the initial shock of launch wore off, Shirou got a better look at the navigation AI. Silver hair, those eyes, that familiar presence—this wasn’t just inspired by Tiamat.

This was Tiamat.

Or at least, some version of her.

Great. He was literally riding around inside Sakura's adoptive mother.

If the present-day Tiamat ever found out about this, he'd have another name on the "people who want to murder Shirou" list. Right next to Venus, apparently.

The wormhole tunnel stretched ahead of them, walls rippling with distorted space-time. It would've been beautiful if not for the chunks of compressed matter tumbling through their path.

Shirou's stomach dropped. Those weren't just rocks—they were entire planets, crushed down to the size of asteroids but retaining all their original mass. Dense enough to punch through a starship's hull like paper.

"That's going to be a problem," he muttered.

No wonder Tethys preferred information transmission for long-distance travel. Data couldn't get splattered across a bulkhead.

Before Shirou could even think about solutions, Tiamat had already moved. Her child-like form remained perfectly still, but weapons systems across the ship hummed to life.

"Debris field detected. Initiating clearance protocol."

The main cannon charged with a sound like reality tearing.

Light erupted from the ship's forward array—not the clean energy beam Shirou expected, but something that looked like concentrated starlight. It swept across their path, and every piece of compressed matter simply ceased to exist.

The tunnel ahead cleared in seconds, leaving nothing but empty space and the fading afterglow of annihilated planets.

Shirou leaned back in the pilot's throne, suddenly very glad he'd chosen this particular ship.

The destruction was genuinely breathtaking. Compressed planets exploding into stardust—no human fireworks display could compete with that kind of spectacle.

It also made one thing crystal clear: Tiamat had been holding back massively during her fight with the new generation gods in the future. If she'd wanted to, she could've vaporized them all without breaking a sweat.

"Debris elimination complete, Master," chibi Tiamat reported with that same serene expression. "My body performed admirably. I am powerful, reliable, and very safe to ride. Please consider using me again in the future."

Shirou's eye twitched. "The way you're saying that is a bit inappropriate... Could you maybe phrase it differently?"

She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Rephrase? I am not defective merchandise, Master. Please use me whenever you need." Then, as if remembering something important, she gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up and beamed with innocent pride.

The silence stretched.

He stared at her, a cold dread settling in his stomach. This was it. This was Tiamat's ultimate dark history—being an adorably clueless AI who had no idea how her words sounded.

Somewhere in the present timeline, he could practically feel Tiamat's eyes boring holes through reality itself. The future version who'd cultivated an image of ancient dignity and maternal authority was probably watching this very moment and planning seventeen different ways to erase him from existence.

"I'm so dead when I get back," he muttered, slumping deeper into the pilot's seat.

"Dead, Master?" Tiamat looked concerned. "Are you experiencing system failures? Should I run a diagnostic?"

"No, no. I'm fine." For now.

Chibi Tiamat brightened and gave him another enthusiastic thumbs up.

Oh no…

...

Tiamat buried her face in her hands, shoulders hunched as she pressed herself into the corner like she could somehow disappear into the wall itself. The respected primordial goddess, in the end, was reduced to this.

"Wait, Mom." Kama tilted her head, studying the scene playing out in the Vortex Gate before glancing back at the mortified figure in the corner. "Were you always this adorable?"

A strangled whimper escaped from between Tiamat's fingers. "Sakura..."

"You know what? You remind me of a hamster right now." Kama's grin widened, clearly enjoying this far too much. "A very large, very distressed hamster."

"Make it stop," she pleaded. "Please, just make it stop!"

But the Gate kept playing, following Shirou's perspective wherever he went, completely indifferent to her suffering.

Enkidu watched this entire display with the kind of fascination usually reserved for natural disasters. "I have to admit, this wasn't what I expected from the Mother Goddess."

They'd spent centuries holding Tiamat as something untouchable, beyond question. She was supposed to be divine. Not... whatever this was. The figure in the Gate looked like any other young woman caught trying too hard to be endearing, and failing spectacularly at it.

"Because... because..." Tiamat's fingers fidgeted against each other, her voice getting smaller with each word. "When I was first created, the Masters had already changed into different forms. So they just... left me in storage."

"Oh!" Kama's eyes lit up with recognition. "Like those old electronics people shove in closets when they get newer models. Just sitting there collecting dust, wondering if anyone remembers you exist."

Crack!

Tiamat went completely still. If someone could actually die from mortification, she'd be a corpse right now. The urge to sink through the floor and disappear forever had never felt stronger.

Enkidu frowned, glancing around the room. "Does anyone else hear that?"

"Hear what?" Ishtar replied.

"It sounds like something breaking."

Ishtar shot a look at Tiamat, who had turned the color of old parchment, then quickly looked anywhere else. "My hearing's terrible. Absolutely awful. Can't hear a thing."

"But Mom isn't outdated junk." Kama's arms wrapped around Tiamat, voice turning gentle. "You're the most important person in my life. My most precious treasure."

"Sakura!" Tiamat melted into the embrace, practically sobbing with relief.

Kama held her close, making all the right soothing noises, but Ishtar caught the satisfied little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. Like a cat that had just knocked something expensive off a shelf.

"When did my sister turn into such a menace?" Ishtar muttered. "She's getting as bad as Gilgamesh."

"Disgraceful mongrel." Gilgamesh's attention snapped away from the Vortex Gate, golden eyes narrowing. "Exactly who are you calling a menace?"

"Whoever's guilty, I suppose." Ishtar shrugged, then couldn't resist adding with a grin, "Besides, what are you going to do about it? You don't have Ea anymore, oh mighty third-rate Heroic Spirit."

Gilgamesh's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping near his temple. "A mere Venus reject dares speak to this king with such insolence. Divine Punishment!"

"You can try." Ishtar straightened, chin lifting as a grin spread across her face. "But the way you are now? I'm not so sure you could take me."

The satisfaction was intoxicating. She'd never gotten to twist the knife with Gilgamesh like this before, never had the upper hand so completely. This was better than any victory she could have imagined.

She was enjoying herself so much that she missed the way Enkidu looked at her—like someone watching a person step on a landmine.