pullmeoutalive | Fate/Echo's Call

Fate/Echo's Call

[ She hadn't wanted this. She had disagreed with her father's plan, to participate in the Holy Grail war at all, but perhaps it hadn't been loud enough.

(Perhaps, Haru thinks, tiredly now, as though she didn't know that it had been nowhere near loud.)

But with mages hearing the stirrings of a powerful man ready to put Tokyo beneath his heel, she ought to have expected this. Instead, she had come home and found her father, face-down on the ivory shag carpet, body having long since grown cold. But the armor. The armor was still where he had hidden it, five sets of hidden drawers locked with a seal only a member of the Okumura family could undo.

She hadn't wanted this. But things couldn't stay as they were, and only a few days after his funeral, Haru had finished preparations. The circle, etched carefully and painstakingly on the floor with care given to each individual symbol. The armor, placed in the center.

... She can't shake the feeling that she is still her father's subservient puppet, but as she finishes chanting--

The room explodes in light and her hand burns as the lines of three Command Seals engrave themselves onto her skin.

Much to her embarrassment, she's tipped over backwards from the shock. ]

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[ That's a relief to hear, but all he manages is a vague nod of acknowledgement. His attention is focused solely on the armored figure as they move to retrieve their lance. Yes, that's a Servant all right. ]

You've got a funny way of saying hello.

[ The figure still doesn't speak, but instead points its lance straight at Arenvald this time, with a slight tilt of its head.

Yes, it's great at saying hello, thanks for asking. ]

I don't think they're willing to be forthcoming with details.

Apparently not. Stay back, Haru, and keep a sharp eye. There may yet be a Master about.

[ That said, he falls into a ready stance, sword in one hand and shield on the other. This Lancer is clearly inviting him to fight, and they can’t very well run from an opportunity to learn more about the enemy. ]

Come on, then.

Be careful!

[ He's right, there's no guarantee that Lancer is the only one here trying to defeat them. If Arenvald is occupied with fending off a Servant, it's easy enough to assume his Master would be more vulnerable.

And this Lancer seems hellbound on ensuring that Arenvald does, indeed, keep his attention on them, lashing forward with lightning-fast yet somehow heavy-handed strikes to try and break past his guard. At the same time, they're apparently aiming to drive him back, away from Haru entirely. ]

[ One of Arenvald’s dearest friends, dear to the point that he considered her an adoptive sister, was a skilled lancer. The two of them would spar often, so there is a part of him now that is glad that a Lancer challenges him now. Even without his Echo providing him brief glimpses into the future that make his reflexes almost supernaturally fast, he knows how to handle an opponent with a polearm.

Instead of meeting the blow head-on, he skirts to one side, allowing the attack to glance off his shield and to the side. At the same time, he hefts his sword in a reverse grip, driving it towards the Servant’s torso with the momentum of his spin.

It all happens in slow motion for Arenvald, focused as he is on the battle, but to the naked eye, a fight between Servants is a lightning fast shower of sparks and flying debris as weapons exchange blows and supernatural entities leap from place to place. True enough, the fight drives him away from Haru, and seizes his full attention. ]

[ It's a fight that's impossible to follow. That glimmer of silver alerts her to Arenvald parrying a blow, just as the Lancer spins to unleash another attack, keeping up a brutal, swift assault. Chunks of concrete go flying, and Haru hesitates to go any closer. She hails from a magus family, of course, but this doesn't mean it makes her any less physically delicate.

It does, however, make her more aware of possible threats, which is why she narrowly sidesteps a bullet. There was no sound, no indication, but the shell lies gleaming on the pavement and Haru sucks in a quick breath as the one who fired it finally reveals himself.

... It's not someone she's entirely familiar with, a balding man in glasses with a strong grip on the gun he's got pointed at her. Someone who had met her father...? Briefly-- only once, she thinks, she'd shaken his hand and he'd congratulated her on her betrothal.

And now this.

"To think that Okumura's daughter would have decided to enter the fray... you're entirely out of your element, aren't you, my dear?" ]

... While I may not be as experienced, I'm starting to believe that I absolutely can't allow people like you to do as you please.

[ The fight takes all of Arenvald's attention – his opponent is fast, fast enough that sometimes his Echo cannot keep up and he is instead forced to rely on his fighting skills rather than leaning wholly on his gift. The Lancer lands a glancing blow at one point, and Arenvald can feel blood running freely from the gash in his cheek.

Not once does this other Servant speak, but Arenvald wishes to the Twelve that they would, just so he had some sort of idea of just who he was dealing with here. The two of them seem pretty evenly matched, so any sort of information would be helpful.

Once again, Lancer clashes with his shield, and skirts back to gain some distance. It is in this brief, quiet moment, that Arenvald realizes just how far away he's gotten from Haru. Damn it all, it's been a trap the whole time and he fell for it. The Lancer, illuminated by a nearby street light, readies to attack again, and Arenvald sees his out. Hefting his shield in one hand, he flings it hard. The small buckler crashes into the street light, and the Lancer is forced to shield their eyes from the bright flash and shower of sparks.

Arenvald is already running, even as his shield ricochets back to him and he slides it over his arm again, heading full-tilt for the place he left his Master. ]

[ The gun is unwavering, and Haru quietly stares down the barrel. She's well-aware that she ought to be panicking, or running for her life, or crying out for help.

Yet, standing there, she only feels a pervading sense of calm and a firming sense of resolve. There are corrupt people vying for a wish from a holy vessel. People like that wanted a power they honestly didn't deserve, and Haru curls a hand over her chest.

The man stares at her, one thick eyebrow raised.

"Well, Okumura-san. If you'd prefer to live another day, I would suggest handing over your Command Seals now and gracefully withdrawing from this fight." ]

I refuse.

[ Softly, and she tilts her head. She can tell, just faintly, with no real way to tell just how close he is, but-- ]

Rather, if you would prefer to live another day, I would suggest lowering your gun before Saber gets here.

[ It does not take him long to get back to her, carried on superhuman limbs that make crossing a great distance a matter of mere moments. The other magus must sense his approach as well, because he tenses and panics and—

Arenvald can see it with his Echo, the pull of the trigger, the way the gun jerks near-silently, and the way Haru falls. The vision is gone as quickly as it came and in the precious second it affords him, he reaches out, following the thread that already connects them, and… protects her.

The gun fires, for real this time, and the bullet does hit its mark, but it seems to pass through her without leaving so much as a scratch. Even her clothes are unscathed. And then Arenvald is there, coming between them with such speed that it’s like a tornado touched down in the spot for half a second, dirt and small bits of debris kicking up in the wind.

He extends his sword at the man, the tip of the blade barely nicking the skin of his throat. ]

You’ll not hurt her as long as I’m here.

Ah--

[ It's more gasp than word, Haru's mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. He... missed? No, that couldn't be. Haru knew she hadn't been able to move in time, even as she'd braced herself, but there's... nothing. She feels no sharp sting, no agonizing burn... there's not even gunpowder when she looks down at herself.

But she'd heard the gun go off.

Before she can properly think it through, Arenvald's quite suddenly there, placing himself between them so swiftly that she almost staggers from the wind that announces his arrival.

The man blanches, well-aware that facing down a high-school girl is one thing but facing down an angry Servant with a blade at his throat?

He'd lose his head before he could fire off a shot.

So slowly, he swallows.

"... Lancer, we're retreating."

The figure appears beside him silently, regarding Arenvald, if the tilt of its head is any indication. But neither one of them moves until that sword does. The only one who does, in fact, move is Haru, only to rest a hand against Arenvald's back. ]

... Saber... it's all right. I know what we're facing now.

[ He's so used to her calling him by name already that it feels... impersonal to have her call him Saber, but he understands why she does it. It is a shield in its own right, meant to protect them both.

And she says it with such gentleness that he cannot help but be calmed regardless. Slowly, he lowers his blade, but his eyes do not leave the opposing Servant and Master.

It probably looks perfectly intimidating, and he only manages to pull it off because he's not focused on looking cool. His mind is on the pain blooming in his chest, the warm trickle of blood soaking the cloth concealed by his armor. For now, there's no visible sign he's inured at all, but he is struggling to hold it together until the other pair departs. ]

[ It's not very dignified, but the Master hurries off quickly as soon as Arenvald lowers his blade, the Lancer shimmering into thin air and vanishing entirely.

Haru still waits a few more seconds, before stepping forward to glance up at him. ]

... Are you all right?

[ Outwardly, he just looks angry. But there's something... wrong, even if she isn't sure what it is just yet. ]

[ He doesn’t dare move for even another few seconds after that, until the pinpricks at the back of his consciousness that are Master and Servant have faded away.

Then he just sort of… falls apart. Dropping to one knee with a pained gasp, his armor dissipates in a flash of silver light, leaving him plainly dressed as before – and the freely bleeding bullet wound plainly visible. ]

I’m sorry… I… it was all I could think to do.

Arenvald--!!

[ Haru instantly drops to her knees beside him, reaching out to steady him. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

She'd been shot-- but she hadn't been hurt. Somehow, Arenvald had taken that injury for himself. ]

You... took that bullet for me...

[ Arenvald clamps a hand against the wound, as if that would help. It doesn’t really, and his palm comes away stained crimson for his troubles. He turns a pained smile her way. ]

I couldn’t just let him shoot you, now could I?

It's true that you would have died if I had, but...

[ There's a whole ton of guilt piling up in her eyes. ]

... Can you make it home? I can do something there.

[ That remark takes him aback, because – as clearly evidenced by the bullet wound in his chest – his own safety hadn’t even been a priority. ]

It wasn’t me I was worried about.

[ After that soft admission, he simply nods. It hurts, and the bleeding isn’t doing him any favors, but Servants can be hardy creatures. He’ll be alright that long, at least. ]

... [ There's something that flashes briefly in Haru's eyes - honest surprise, perhaps, something a little more vulnerable than her usual - but now isn't the time. She's aware of that.

She can feel the heat of him when she rests her hand against his back once more, this time without his armor, and draws reassurance from that. ]

I think it might be best if you went incorporeal until we get back. You should save your mana.

[ He’s not sure what to make of that look she gives him, their eyes locking for a brief moment as he tries to decipher its meaning. Her hand is warm against his back, and even if her expression concerns him, that simple contact is a comfort. ]

Alright. Be careful, Haru.

[ It would be unwise to argue, to push himself further and risk becoming useless to her. He shimmers out of existence a moment later. ]

Of course.

[ She says it softly, a good two minutes after he's already vanished-- again, with that subdued air.

But then her chin goes up, her eyes narrow, and she rolls up the sleeves of her sweater to hurry home as quickly as she can. That kind of injury won't kill him, but it doesn't mean she likes the thought of him suffering with it for longer than necessary-- which is why as soon as she gets home and gently waves off the maids, she's in the kitchen chopping up vegetables.

Which may seem mundane, but these are vegetables Haru herself had been working on cultivating. Vegetables to replenish mana, once she'd realized just how vital such a thing was to mages-- and Servants, as her father had told her repeatedly. She can do minor healing herself, but this ought to help. ]

Arenvald?

[ Just to make sure he's nearby. ]

[ It's kind of strange to think that a physical injury will persist even if his physical form is altered. Arenvald was never much for magic, in life or as a Servant, so he's not sure how it is a bullet wound still hurts even when he's pretty much a ghost.

Conserving his mana by going incorporeal for a time has helped a bit, however, and the bleeding has finally stemmed. He is still bone weary, however, but manages the strength to appear when Haru calls for him again. ]

Right here.

[ Haru takes one look at him-- and then, vegetables neatly placed on a plate, reaches for his wrist with her free hand to lead him over to a chair at the table. ]

Here. Eating these should help a little more with mana restoration, but I'd also like to see that wound completely. May I?

[ She's aware that, as his Master, she should perhaps be a little more demanding-- but right now, she doesn't feel like it. ]

[ He goes where he is lead, too weary and more than a little bewildered to really question it. He's actually quite glad she's not scolding him for this, though that may be on the way later.

He's got a veggie stick half sticking out of his mouth when she asks about his wound. ]

... Do you want me to take my shirt off?

If you don't mind.

[ Yeah, she is going to have Words for him soon enough. ]

Edited 2019-03-02 05:22 (UTC)

[ Oof. Hard to feel embarrassed when he gets the feeling a lecture is forthcoming. He chomps up the rest of the slice of vegetable before peeling away his now-ruined shirt, wincing as the movement pulls at his wound.

In his defense, he's doing better than someone who got shot ought to be, but the fact still stands that he got shot in the first place. ]

lmao girl i only just now got to this i'm gomen

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