The Holy Sippy Cup War Chapter 9 (Patreon)

9. A trickster, exposed.

Sitting in a small apartment, Bazett huffed, re-examining the information she’d had her servant collect using his ability. The servant in question, Sasaki, sat in the corner, arms crossed with a scowl on his face.

His attitude was doing little to help the uncomfortable nature of the barebones room around them. Bazett had tried to make the space as homey as she could but she herself wasn’t one for interior decorating.

A few of the shelves held a small collection of her board games and books, things she liked to keep around in the event of downtime. This was pretty much all she brought though because of her penchant for traveling light.

It made it easier to keep everything tidy. Her suits were neatly pressed and hung in the bedroom’s closet, the laptop she used was always centered at the head of the table, and while cooking didn’t happen often, not a single dirty dish stayed on the counter for more than fifteen minutes.

Aside from Bazett’s spartan personal belongings, a small television sat in one corner opposite a haggard couch that’d come with the apartment and a card table paired with a set of folding chairs taking up space in the apartment.

“We’ve already narrowed down who four of the seven masters are, not including me.” she mumbled aloud, sorting through the names on her sheet. “We still don’t have enough to approach the Matron though. I’d hoped that by helping some of them interact with each other they might find common ground and work together, but so far all they’ve done is fight.”

“Well, it did seem too optimistic to hope that just by pointing them at each other you’d get them to play nice.” Sasaki scoffed.

Bazett frowned at his negativity, trying to ignore it among other things. She sighed and avoided responding.

Sasaki seemed somewhat dissatisfied by this, possibly hoping for some banter with his master to help alleviate his boredom. There were other ways to alleviate his lethargy, Bazett having offered to teach him to play any number of her games and open his eyes to the wonders of reality television, but Sasaki wasn’t interested in any of it. If it wasn’t sparring or scouting then he couldn’t care less about it. Even then he wasn’t the most thrilled about having to scout out the other masters.

Her servant was all business, and for him that mostly equated to combat.

Having been ignored, he had to be content with simply shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The sound his diaper made as his thighs rubbed against it made Bazett cringe because she could hear the squish of an accident clearly.

She’d avoided looking at the dark brown stain soiling the swooping swallow design of his diaper up until now, but with the smell growing stronger than she could bear she knew it would be best to offer a change sooner rather than later. She moved her gaze to take in the whole of her servant, trying not to focus on the soiled padding too much.

Bazett's sight fell upon his outfit, as deciphering it had been one of her great passions when not gathering information. The body looked like a traditional kimono with the gentle lavender color flowing loosely around his body. However, the skirt had been chopped lengthwise so only the back existed. Also, rather than large baggy sleeves they were cropped short and cinched around his arms with what she suspected was elastic.

While Sasaki had yet to complain about his soiled state, Bazett was certain the mush in his pants was more troublesome to him than to her.

With a sigh, Bazett dropped the papers onto the table. “Will you just summon the changing supplies?” she asked with a sigh, “I can smell that you need a change.”

Sasaki nodded bashfully, bringing out the changing supplies that every Cryer apparently got when they were summoned. She knew he was embarrassed about his need for changes, even if he didn’t vocalize it. His face said it all every time Bazett had to change him.

When all of this had begun she’d been excited to participate in the Holy Grail War, with hopes of the prestige from winning propelling her to the top of the Mage Association’s ranks.

Much to her disappointment, Bazett had been unable to summon the Lancer she so desperately wished to partner with. In fact, of all the servants available, Assassin would have been her last choice. She would have preferred to be an active participant in the combat and felt the hand she’d been dealt had forced her into the shadows while others with more suitable heroic spirits fought.

The shock and surprise of learning about “Cryers” and the “Matron” only made things even worse. It added new complications that Bazett hadn’t had a chance to plan for, the messy diaper wrapped around her servant’s waist being a perfect example.

It’d only taken a single change for the purple-haired mage to hate dealing with the crinkly rectangle, though she was grateful that it was all she had to do. From the other servants she had seen, most of them had rather… unique attitudes that went hand in hand alongside their diapered states, making her grateful that Sasaki didn’t act as ridiculous and outright infantile as some.

It made her wonder if her attempt to summon Cú Chulainn would have been similarly affected. Would he too have had a babyish proclivity that made him difficult to work with? Was Bazett’s summoning method the reason for her servant’s uncharacteristic maturity or was it his strange status as an urban legend?

All these questions factored into her changed battle plan and for the past few days she’d spent all of her time assessing the situation. In the end, Bazett had to consider herself lucky; despite the physical issues her servant had, he was mentally sound. A reasonable Assassin was better than a powerful Lancer-class servant that babbled like a fool.

“At least you don’t require constant bottle feeding or anything.” Bazett thought.

“I’d like to cover what we know again,” she said, keeping the conversation going while she ripped open the tapes of her servant’s diaper in an effort to dispel the awkwardness. It wasn’t working particularly well, but it kept her distracted while she wiped her servant’s butt.

For his part, Sasaki just sighed, apparently more aggravated that she’d asked for this information once again than  being bothered by having his diaper changed.

“I’ve told you everything I know about the Matron and the Cryer classes and how the Holy Grail War works to the best of my knowledge. Then, despite my objections, you had me skulk around town spying on people. So far we know of Rin Tohsaka and her Archer, Taiga Fujimura and her Berserker, Luviagelita Edelfelt and her Lancer, Shirou Emiya, and the Matou girl with an unknown servant. That’s all we’ve been able to deduce based on your Mage guild associations and hunches.”

“And why don’t we know who the Matou servant is?” Bazett asked. She wanted to cover all the bases, and a gap this big in their information could prove fatal to their plans.

“It’s not exactly easy to spy on the estates of these mage families,” Sasaki retorted. “Their houses are guarded by ancient and very potent wards.”

Bazett noted the annoyance in his voice especially when he asked: “Is there a reason you’re having me repeat this to you?”

Bazett nodded, sprinkling the sweet-smelling powder, “Yes, it helps me think. I want to keep it all straight in my head. What about the Matron?”

“Tamamo-no-Mae. Based on the lore you were able to dig up, she’s the only one that makes sense, being a kitsune priestess and an aspect of the Japanese sun goddess. Which makes her especially dangerous. Even speculatively those kinds of divine ties make a servant quite destructive. Not knowing who her master is makes her even more dangerous.”

Bazett nodded in agreement, closing the tapes of her lean servant’s diaper and helping him up. “Whoever it is, I suspect you’re right. If the Matron really is as powerful as you say it’d take a powerful mage to keep her under control.

From behind Bazett came a somewhat quiet laugh. It quickly got progressively louder, emanating from a darkness she didn’t remember being there before.

The master and servant duo jumped at the noise, Sasaki bringing up his hands as a katana formed in a golden shimmer and Bazett putting her fists up, feeding power through her magical circuits to activate the runes that would strengthen her strikes.

“Who’s there?” she asked, clenching her fists.

From the shadows leading into the hallway, a figure draped in a blue kimono stepped out. Her long pink hair shifted around the twitching fox ears and behind her, her tail swished, like a cat waiting to pounce.

“So sorry,” she said, her tone implying that she wasn’t really sorry at all, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just so impressed by all the information you were able to gather. However, there is one thing you’ve gotten terribly wrong I’m afraid: Little Atrum is too busy doing tummy time to actually control me. Mommy Tamamo is the one in control there”

The name caused Bazett to perk up, mostly because she was familiar with it. All of a sudden she had another piece of the puzzle—Atrum Galliasta was the Matron’s master. The Matron, a dangerous servant with more power than any other, who was currently standing in Bazett’s hideout at this very moment…

“How did you find us!?” Bazett asked, “I put wards all over the city—this place should be undetectable to any spell.”

Tamamo was unbelievably nonchalant when she answered which served to make Bazett incredibly irritated. “I suppose a simple scrying spell might be beyond you. Those wards were hardly worthy of a wooden dowsing rod.”

The gravity of their situation hit Bazett like a speeding train. Tamamo was here, and she probably hadn’t come to play board games with her and Sasaki. Her runic magic flared across her limbs, amplifying her strength as she dashed toward the fox-eared servant.

She leapt into the air, lashing out with a vicious kick aimed at the side of Tamamo’s head. Bazett had hoped she could catch the Matron off guard or at least stun her. It was hard to imagine she'd go down easily though. Even just these few moments in her presence were enough to sense her overwhelming power.

Just standing in the same room as her was like a tidal wave of Mana rushing over Bazett.  Honestly, she wondered how she’d failed to notice that much power approaching her.

Bazett knew herself to be fast, possibly even faster than some of the servants in the war, especially when she empowered herself with runes. Their best bet against a Caster like this Matron would be to take her out before she even had a chance to cast her magic. Should she manage to push them back, they would quickly get suppressed and overwhelmed.

Tamamo solemnly raised a hand to catch her foot, stopping Bazett mid-attack. She didn’t budge even a bit from Bazett’s strike, remaining steadfastly in place. Even though she presented an unfazed attitude, Bazett caught just the briefest wince when her foot connected with Tamamo’s hand, letting her know that the servant wasn’t invincible.

“My, how brave!” Tamamo said, looking genuinely impressed with the master’s battle acumen, “I can’t even imagine little Atrum trying to attack a servant directly as you just have. Still, your bravery is more foolish than you might think.”

There was a split second where the mage hung weightless in the air before gravity kicked in. In that second magic had charged across Tamamo’s fingers and into Bazett’s clothes before they exploded. Threads flew apart and reintegrated into a completely new outfit, wrapping its fleece exterior around her before she even hit the floor.

Tamamo had pushed her away, knocking Bazett back against the wall. She readied herself for the impact against her floor. To her surprise, it was cushioned. Something padded around her rump kept the hardwood from bruising her tailbone.

With the world actually underneath her Bazett could see what her clothes had become. Bright pastel pink had replaced her dark suit and she was locked in a tight hug with herself. Sure, the pink fuzzy pink straitjacket was childish and restricting, but the diaper replacing her pants and panties felt like an insult to injury.

Its fluffy bulk was strange. Her thighs squeezed together, moving it up and down while squishing the crinkling nappy at the same time. “So… annoyingly soft…” she thought, feeling unnaturally distracted by the new addition to her outfit.

Bazett writhed against the wall for a moment, a strange mix of trying to regain her facilities and feeling all sorts of bizarre new feelings. She was snapped out of it by a shout from Sasaki.

“MASTER, GET UP!” her servant hollered, rushing forward with Monohoshizao drawn. He swung down, slicing through the air toward Tamamo. There was a moment of hope as Bazett could have sworn she saw a slight worry cross the fox deity's face… then she dodged.

Sasaki had gotten close, so close in fact that a scrap of Tamamo’s dress hit the floor, slashed through by the blade. Bazett pushed herself up from the floor, straining against the bonds of her straitjacket to try and break free. It shouldn’t have been so hard; by all accounts, she should have been able to snap the weak straps with her enhancements, but they held fast, bolstered by Tamamo’s magecraft.

“Master, you must run!” Sasaki commanded, leveling his sword at Tamamo for another strike.

“Sa—!” Bazett caught herself, avoiding using her servant’s true name in front of another. “Assassin! I can’t leave you behind!” she yelled.

“You must, or she’ll take us both! Go, get help!”

Bazett was dumbfounded. She didn’t want to accept it but knew he was right. Only one of them had a chance to escape and if Tamamo kidnapped her, she’d essentially have control of Sasaki anyway. On shaky legs she ran through the still-open door, leaving her servant and Tamamo to clash.

It was hard to run, being locked in a straitjacket with such thick padding compressed between her legs and all, but Bazett pushed herself to make it work. Being able to channel the runic magic in her legs to add speed helped.

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Tamamo watched Bazett go but kept her focus on Sasaki. She regarded Atrum behind her with a soft look. “Do me a favor and go after her won’t you?” she asked. The request was soft, like a parent guiding their charge toward an outcome they preferred. “Mommy will reward you if you bring her back to me.” she added, knowing the promise of reward was enough to spur him to action.

Luckily Atrum had been with her long enough to know better than argue, Tamamo’s punishments and hypnosis effectively getting through to him. He was running after the fleeing master a mere second later.

This left just her and the Assassin, he stood with his sword drawn and ready, eyes locked in on Tamamo’s movements. She however was more casual, looking down at the cut in her dress. “I’m impressed by both of you it seems.” she said, “Little Ms. Bazett is brave, but you… landing a blow upon a goddess is no easy feat.”

She wasn’t surprised to see that the Servant had no interest in talking to her and instead slashed forward. Tamamo dodged again, though just barely.

He certainly was fast.

Despite her Matron status, she was still confined to her abilities as a Caster. One blow would be grievous due to her low endurance and she wasn’t planning to let that happen.

Her mirror appeared in her hands, becoming an improvised shield that she could use to reflect blows back at the Assassin in the event that she failed to dodge his blows. The fight between them grew tense as he began to gain ground on her, slowly wearing down her stamina.

“Enough of this!” she growled, her irritation growing through her normally calm demeanor. She hadn’t expected this to be such a challenge.

Assassin took a step back so he could attempt to stab her, mistakenly granting Tamamo the perfect opportunity to flip her mirror around to face him. He was caught directly in its reflection as, curse magic pulsing through her hand, she slammed her palm against the back of the divine object, firing a curse toward the servant.

A flash filled the room, brilliant and bright as an electrical crackle jumped from the ceiling to the Assassin, knocking him to the floor in a twitching heap.

Tamamo looked down on the servant, awash with joy after her victory. However, a shadow of concern was hidden behind that joy. The Assassin had held his own against her, even nearly landing a potentially debilitating blow.

“Staying still now, aren’t you Mr. Fussy?” She said, teasing the unconscious Servant, his body still covered in little crackling remnants of curse energy, “I’m surprised, I didn’t expect such a fierce Cryer, let alone one who acted so much more mature than the others.” She stepped around him, her fox tail swishing across the dingy furniture of Bazett’s apartment.

“It’s so sad that Atrum isn’t as potent a mage as I’d been hoping for. He’s adorable of course, and I do love babying fussy little stinkers because their resistance makes it so much more fun. However, I hadn’t expected to need his assistance. He was acting more as a tether than anything else.”

“Even if he had stepped in, I don’t think his magic would have had any effect against you. On top of it all he doesn’t really worship me. I am Mommy and not just any Mommy—a divine, godly Mommy, and yet he still resists. I suspect you’ll be much the same way dear Assassin” she sighed. Now that the heat of battle died down her thoughts were wandering.

Assassin’s torso rose and fell as he took in shallow breaths. He was completely unaware of Tamamo’s magic coursing its way up his limbs toward his midsection, converging at his abdomen. From beneath his half kimono, a small bubbling fart muffled by his avian-adorned diaper broke the Matron’s observational silence.

A smile of satisfaction spread on her face as her curse overtook his bowels, moving them to her whims while placing the necessary material inside. His eyes opened just in time to experience his body's betrayal in voiding.

As a Cryer, she was sure he was used to accidents, but her curse made him feel each and every muscle spasm as he pooped himself. It was a more involved process that showed him his body wasn’t under his control but rather hers.

Assassin’s face scrunched and twisted, obviously displeased. He looked up at her, almost daring her to do more. “Do you think you’ve won?” he asked defiantly, “My Master is already long gone. Without her command seals you can’t do whatever you have planned.”

Tamamo laughed at his claim. It was interesting to see a Cryer so unaffected by his secondary class. In her mind, it’d make embarrassing him so much more fun. “It’s a good thing little Atrum is already after her then. I’ll have both of you soon enough.”

She looked around, her eyes falling on the open door of the apartment. “Where is he anyway?” Tamamo asked. “I hope he’s okay.”

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The concrete underneath Bazett’s feet was annoyingly solid, making her whirlwind sprint through the derelict apartment even more difficult as she made her escape. Even with the runic enchantments on her muscles she had trouble putting distance between her and Atrum in the small space.

Above her, the clashes between Tamamo and Sasaki made her worries continuously spike. Her servant needed the support but Tamamo’s ability to dispatch her without breaking a sweat told Bazett she was severely outmatched. When the great crackling crash of some powerful magic cut through the air she knew it was over.

Sasaki was in Tamamo’s hands now, and unless she wanted to end up captured as well she would need to pick up the pace. She hoped the metal exit door at the bottom of the stairwell was unlocked.

She speedily waddled down the last flight of stairs, trying to put distance between her and the apartment despite her awkward new outfit. When she looked back she didn't see Atrum and started to relax only to catch a blur descending towards the concrete space at the bottom of the shaft out of the corner of her eye. Blonde hair trailed after the form, and just before it would have crashed she saw the form slow. Atrum’s shortcut paid off as he came to a soft landing mere feet away from the door.

If she didn’t act quickly he’d be in a position to block the door. She thought fast, considering the risk of diving for the exit. “It better not be locked!” she thought, pushing off the step and diving from the top ledge of the flight of stairs.

Atrum was already running for the door, getting into position to block her way. She rotated her body mid-air, angling her feet toward him so she could knock him out of the way before attempting to kick through the door.

The sole of her foot Atrum square in the chest, knocking all of the air out of his body with a loud “OOF!”. She pivoted, pushing her arm into the door while forcing Atrum away. Her weight against the door caused it to swing open.

A rush of cold night air passed by Bazett’s body.

Using the door as a surface to push off from she ricocheted into the alleyway so she could land back on her feet. Bazett couldn’t believe it when she landed steadily, the bulk between her thighs throwing off her gait enough that she fully expected to fail spectacularly.

Without her movements being limited within the hallway she knew she could easily leave Atrum in her dust which is exactly what she did as she took off into the cool night. His heavy breaths got further and further away behind her, the runic enhancements carrying her away.

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After securing the rambunctious Assassin to the floor Tamamo considered walking off and finding Atrum on her own. Her concern for his safety only got more serious with each passing moment. If he couldn’t catch a rival mage it was likely he was better off locked in a crib, generating Mana for her somewhere he wouldn’t be in danger.

She was about to walk out when her onesie-clad mage reappeared in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with a deep pant. She hardly cared that he was empty-handed, her gaze immediately focused on his dirt-covered arms and the skinned knees he was sporting.

“My dear little Atrum, you’re hurt!” she exclaimed. She advanced upon him, her concern justified now that she saw he was injured. It wasn’t just the scraped knees, her poor baby’s arms were bruised and a vicious welt practically pulsated on his cheek.

“She’s—huff—enhanced herself,” he said despite struggling with ragged and labored breaths, “huff—you should have—huff—restrained her better.”

Tamamo ignored the backhanded comment, at least for a moment. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a punishment was forming. At the forefront she was fawning over him, picking out and categorizing the severity of his wounds.

Once she found them all Tamamo chose the most severe wound she saw, the ugly ragged scrapes on his knees, and brought her lips to them. Tamamo wasn’t much of a healer, but one of the perks of her Matron classification was the ability to “kiss it better.”

A flood of Mana pulsated in her lips, rushing into Atrums wound and healing it. It was as if time was sped up from her touch, taking the wound from a weeping scrape to a slight scar. Tamamo couldn’t undo the damage, but any pain Atrum may have felt from the broken skin was taken away by her kiss and the wound stitched itself shut.

She continued to apply her healing magic to his wounds, taking away the cuts and bruises he’d gained from Bazett’s attack. Tamamo couldn’t help but be impressed by her. Poor Atrum wasn’t suited to go out and fight, but even diapered and locked in a strait-jacket she’d managed to dispatch her opponent.

Once Atrum was no longer groaning and wheezing Tamamo straightened herself, dusting off her dress. “You’ve gone and gotten all dirty Atty, we’ll have to have bath time when we get back to the estate. I’m sure our Assassin friend could use a good scrub too.”

The blonde mage glowered, clearly torn on whether to be grateful for the healing or mad about his upcoming bathtime. He tried to change the subject. “What about the mage?” he asked, “She’s still running free and now she knows who I am.”

“It hardly matters,” Tamamo said, laughing at his attempt to appear mature, “her servant is mine and she’ll eventually have to come retrieve him if she wants to have any chance at winning this war.”

Tamamo reached out with the toe of her sandal, pressing it against the front of the Assassin’s diaper and giving it a little rub.

“What do we do until then?” Atrum asked impatiently.

“We baby our new guest, giving him the treatment every Cryer is due.”