Sorry about the lack of updates i was too busy studying, things started to pile up. I just needed a bit of time to clear some of it.
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The morning glow spilled through the curtains as Kariya rose from bed. The quiet hum of the city still clung to dawn. When he stepped into the living room, the sight before him froze him mid-stride.
Two figures sat facing each other across the low table. On one side, Byakuya shifted restlessly, fingers tapping his knee, the picture of someone who wanted to be anywhere else. Sweatingbullets, Kariya thought grimly. On the opposite couch sat Berserker, mask dim, posture unmoving. Sakura sat beside him, silent, eyes flicking between the two men as though trying to understand a language only adults spoke.
"U-uh, well, I mean… I'll take Shinji when he comes back," Byakuya started, his voice cracking, "a bit of money, maybe a small house somewhere… and just… live normally. That's all I-"
A low voice cut through his rambling.
"No."
Berserker's tone was soft, but the air in the room seemed to still with it. "The heel descended, yet the crawling thing endured, it simply hides beneath the floorboards, waiting for warmth to wake it once more. This home glows with borrowed dawn, fragile but steadfast for a time. Before the war's last verse, I shall weave another ward upon these walls… to keep that glow unsullied by vermin of time long gone."
"And the bird that bartered its wings for comfort… it shall find no rest. For the fledglings it forsook will cry from the nest, and their hunger shall weigh upon it heavier than chains.
Thus the penance of flight abandoned: to crawl where it once soared."
His words hung in the air, neither cruel nor kind, only truth.
Byakuya blinked. "O-okay… could you maybe not talk in riddles? I have no idea what you're saying!" His voice trembled, trying for irritation but landing somewhere between panic and pleading.
Kariya sighed. "He's saying this house is safe from the old man's reach. And that you're not off the hook. You're going to stay here and help me raise the kids; you're not running away with Shinji." His tone carried none of Berserker's poetry, only weary finality.
Byakuya looked away, his jaw tightening until it trembled. "You think I wanted any of this?" he said, voice cracking between anger and defense. "It was him or us, Kariya. Obey, or end up like her…"
The last word caught in his throat. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a fleeting second, the façade broke, grief flickered through his eyes, raw and unguarded.
Then, just as quickly, it vanished. He exhaled, forcing his features back into their brittle calm, a hollow smile twisting his lips."I didn't have a choice."
Kariya didn't answer at first. He just stared at his brother, not with rage, but with the kind of silence that made Byakuya flinch more than any accusation.
Finally, he spoke."Choice?" he echoed softly, almost to himself. "That word's become convenient in this house, hasn't it?"
He took a step closer, shadows from the morning light falling across his face. "You tell yourself you had no choice, that it was all the old man's doing. Maybe that helps you sleep at night. But she had no choice either and you still let her burn for it."
Byakuya's hands clenched on his knees, knuckles white.
Kariya's voice softened, not forgiving, but hollow, tired. "We both crawled out of the same pit, Byakuya. The difference is, you called it home."
The older Matou flinched, and then slumped, defeated. "Fine, I'll stay. When this damn war ends, I'll bring Shinji back. There's enough in the Matou accounts to live on. Between what's left and the assets… we should be able to live quite well even if the kid wants to become a magus."
Kariya said nothing more. He just turned towards the kitchen. Behind him, Sakura's small hands tightened on Berserker's cloak, a silent, instinctive gesture of trust. The knight didn't move, but the dim mask flickered once, faintly, as if in quiet understanding.
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a few days later…
Byakuya's pov
He really hadn't expected this. After all the nagging, the… well-deserved insults, and that constant disapproving glare Kariya wore so naturally his brother had somehow decided to take him, Sakura, and that Servant shopping.
Now here he was, walking through the streets of Fuyuki with a supposed Heroic Spirit holding his hand like a child. Berserker's mask had shifted into the face of some cartoon character, and with that small frame, barely the size of a fourteen-year-old, he looked even younger. Twelve, maybe.
(Though Berserker claimed that was "the natural build of men in his time." Byakuya had his doubts. Ancient people, in his imagination, were taller and stronger, giants among mortals. But what did he know? The other party had actually lived through that era.)
If he didn't know the truth, he'd think the boy beside him was just a foreign kid. Some elderly couple even mistook him for Berserker's father. They'd cooed over how "adorable" his son was. Adorable. He was prettysure this same "child" could flatten Fuyuki in under an hour.
Still… somehow, he was cute. That thought made Byakuya grimace. There was something disarmingly normal about this outing, something that tugged faintly at the same feeling he'd once had on quiet afternoons with Shinji and… her.
He shook the thought off. It didn't matter now.
After picking out clothes for Sakura and Berserker, who'd looked utterly lost when Kariya handed him a pile to try on, they stopped at a small restaurant for dinner. It might've been peaceful, if not for the two women who walked in midway through their meal.
One was striking, short golden hair, sharp eyes, dressed in a dark suit that made her androgynous at first glance. The other, had pale skin, silver hair and red eyes, wrapped in heavy clothes that looked out of place in the mild evening air.
And yet, despite the slight confusion, Byakuya knew the golden-haired one was a woman… Don't ask how, just…uhm experience.
When they entered, the blonde's eyes flicked toward their table. For a brief second, her face froze in confusion, then she turned away, sitting across from the white-haired woman. Still, she kept stealing glances at them, or rather, at Berserker. Each look seemed to deepen her confusion.
Kariya noticed too. His expression tightened, and before long, he suggested they leave. They finished their meal quickly and slipped out into the cool air, the uneasy quiet between them speaking louder than any words could.
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When she stepped into the small restaurant, the warmth of steam and the scent of broth washed over her. It was an unremarkable place, plain wooden tables, the hum of conversation, the clatter of dishes. Yet something in the air made her pause.
Her eyes moved almost unconsciously toward a table near the window. Two men: one with tired eyes like he wanted to be anywhere but there and there other seemed to talking to a purple haired girl. And a boy, pale hair, a small mask of a cartoon character on his face. He looked no older than fourteen (based on her own height when she was 14 years old.)
There was nothing outwardly unusual about him, nothing that should have drawn her attention… and yet, it did.
For a heartbeat, Saber couldn't quite breathe. The sensation wasn't magical, no surge of magic power, no trace of mystery, only a quiet, unsettling familiarity, as if she was seeing someone from a dream long forgotten.
"Saber?" Irisviel's voice broke the silence. "Is something wrong?"
Saber's eyes lingered on the boy for a moment longer before she answered. "No. It's nothing. Only… a strange feeling."
The boy turned slightly, as if sensing her gaze. Their eyes met calm, steady, unreadable. There was no hostility there, only a kind of quiet recognition, the kind one might give a passerby who reminds them of someone they used to know.
Saber looked away first. The feeling lingered even as she sat down.
She told herself it was nothing but a coincidence.But part of her that longed for her home Camelot and its distant skies, knew better.
There was something about him, something faintly familiar, though she couldn't say what. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, too composed for a child, or the weariness in his eyes.
When she glanced back again, he was gone, the little group leaving through the door. For an instant, sunlight brushed the edge of his hair, making it almost golden. Then the moment passed, and the world returned to its ordinary stillness.
"Saber?" Irisviel asked again, smiling gently. "You're staring into space again."
"…It's nothing," Saber murmured. Then, after a pause, almost to herself,
"Only that sometimes… even strangers can feel like memories."
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Sometime later:
As night draped itself over Fuyuki, Arthur's voice broke the quiet, low, calm, yet edged with something that hummed beneath the words."There's a disturbance… faint, but familiar. Another Servant treads these streets."
Following the invisible trace of prana, he led Kariya through the winding alleys until the city lights dimmed behind them. The trail ended near the docks. With a nod, Arthur guided Kariya to shelter behind the shadow of a rusted container, a vantage point hidden from sight far away, yet close enough to witness.
Then, without another word, Arthur stepped forward. His gait was unhurried, deliberate, the kind of calm that heralds a storm. Each step seemed to press against the silence, as though even the night held its breath.