THG Omake: Fate/Stay Fluffy 3 (Patreon)

Fate/Stay Fluffy 3

John Soprano

After a year and a half, I was bored out of my mind. Classes were more or less as I'd expected. I registered out of curiosity, but there was no comparison between the teachings of Scathach and the lectures provided by the Clock Tower. I felt like a PhD candidate going back to elementary school.

What was worse was the blatant prejudice against me and Missy. We were first generation magi as far as they knew, and a magus’ worth was measured by their lineage. Well, their mysteries, but said mysteries were gatekept by lineage.

It didn't help that I was a rather atypical magus. With the help of Scathach’s bounded fields, I'd converted my workshop, a small room provided by the Clock Tower, into an expansive smokehouse. Never mind that we were underground, the space had everything I could ever want for smoking and cooking meat. Runes were handy like that.

After a hundred years, my goal wasn't just to run a successful restaurant, but to enchant food. I wanted to create the perfect barbeque, much as Muramasa wanted to create the platonic ideal of “sword.” This stated mission broke several magus conventions by itself.

Firstly, a smokehouse was also a restaurant. I wanted others to visit and try my food. The fact that I permitted strangers into my workshop shattered the most sacred rule among magi and had people calling me an ignorant hick. Sure, my skill with bounded fields was recognized, but that was only a marginal balm on my tattered reputation.

Secondly, my “research” was effectively doomed to failure. The modern age was lacking in magic and that extended to food. There was only so much prana beef could store, nowhere near enough for any useful enchantments. It wasn’t like beef could hold a runic matrix through the smoking process; I’d tried.

Lastly, people assumed my lack of family pedigree meant I lacked a magical crest worth mentioning. Technically, they were right: I didn’t have a magical crest passed down through generations and added upon by each family head. They therefore thought that I was fiddling with food because that was all I could afford to experiment with.

Admittedly, that was an illusion I actively encouraged. I disliked the fame when I was “Don Texas,” savior of Earth-Bet, and that was without the two-faced, backstabbing snakes in the Clock Tower. I couldn't even begin to imagine what I'd have to do to get some peace and quiet once people figured out I was the Third.

People would learn about me eventually, if for no other reason than the upcoming Holy Grail War, but I wanted to postpone my reveal for as long as possible. As things stood, I feared that I would soon have to duel one arrogant idiot or another.

On the plus side, I had a wonderful outlet for stress.

Thwack

“Ow! I thought you sympathized,” Missy whined as she held her head. “What happened to not abusing your student?”

“I do,” I replied smugly, “with the twelve year old Missy. Are you twelve?”

“Oh, fuck you, John.”

“Is that any way to talk to your master?”

“Ugh, I can't believe you told everyone I was your maid!”

“It's not like you can pass yourself off as even a mediocre magus, Missy. That requires more than your powers.”

“I know. Still pissed though,” she grumbled, dodging out of one lazy swing to counter with a stab. She was much better now. Her strikes were crisp and clean and made the air hiss with each slash and thrust. “When are you going to summon your Servant?”

I'd told her all there was to know about the upcoming war. The name made her laugh. To a heroine who'd seen all twenty endbringers and Scion before her eighteenth birthday, a royal rumble with fourteen participants was barely a scuffle. There were gang shootouts with a larger number of participants. It was only the existence of truly powerful Servants like Gilgamesh that made her take the event seriously.

She wasn’t wrong either. To paraphrase Rin Tohsaka, there was nothing holy about it. Nor was there a cup or grail. Seven schmucks and their afterlife tagalongs didn’t make for a war either. Ergo, Murder Death Kill was a much more descriptive name.

That said, her long experience aside, Missy was admittedly rather inflexible compared to the versatility of magi. Her sword whistled in the air, swerving unnaturally as she altered space around me. She was still Manton-limited in the strictest sense, but a hundred years of company with her Shard had led to a far greater level of cooperation between the two.

To better prepare her, I gave her my best approximation of a Kaleidostick and Class Card in the form of an old-timey, golden pocketwatch. Said watch contained the Saint Graph of Artoria Pendragon as she was while wielding Caliburn. It was something I’d avoided doing on Earth-Bet but saw the need now that we were on a world with many magi.

Of course, I wasn’t Zelretch. Missy’s watch couldn’t absorb other Class Cards or perform any other function like Ilya’s Ruby. Just connecting it to the Heaven’s Feel without requiring my active input was as much as I could manage, and even that took me months to develop.

Still, I was very proud of it. There was something delightful about making Missy do a magical girl callout that tickled me pink. A hundred years later and she still wasn’t free of the frilly dresses and glitter showers.

I shrugged, dodging the annoyed magical girl's best attempt to skewer me. “I don't know, honestly. The grail isn't active right now, but it's not like I need it to upkeep a Servant. Why?”

“I want to see a summoning. I've been reading up on mythology and I wonder which one you'll summon. Are you going to look for a catalyst first?”

“I have one in mind already.”

“Ooh, where are we going? Greece? Scandinavia? Egypt? India?”

“My Servant has to be Ruler, meaning someone who has no interest in the grail's corrupted wish. They don’t need to be a sovereign or leader, but they do need to be willing to oversee the war without bias. They also need to be powerful, loyal, and not a battle-hungry moron.”

“Okay, so who? I mean, aren't Heroic Spirits what they are because they like fighting?”

“Many of them, yes.”

“So? Who?”

“You'll see.”

X

Missy stared at the summoning circle with obvious disappointment. We were in our restaurant-turned-workshop, closed for the day and bounded fields raised to the max.

The circle was fairly standard. Whatever there was to say about the Einzbern, they knew what they were doing. I only had to make a handful of adjustments, most of them because I wasn’t using the Greater Grail at all.

On top of the circle was my catalyst, a traditional, low-seated banquet table from Japan. It was laden with a lavish feast of my finest works, as well as a single item of insurance I hoped would tip the scales in favor of who I wanted to call.

“You know, John, when you said you had a catalyst in mind, I was hoping for something a little more… impressive.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “I don't see how that's my fault.”

“You robbed a sushi restaurant. And not even for actual sushi. You robbed it for fucking tofu.”

“Correction, I robbed the most high-end sushi restaurant in London for inarizushi.”

“Which is rice wrapped in fried tofu. I know my food, damnit.”

“You clearly don’t because it is sushi.”

“Go fuck yourself, John. So what? This person really likes tofu?”

“That is accurate.”

“And you couldn’t think of a better way to acquire said tofu? Why?”

“You said you wanted to get out more, so we went out.”

“This wasn’t what I meant! And how is fried tofu a catalyst? For that matter, how is any of this a catalyst?”

“Excuse you, fried tofu is the most appropriate catalyst. Besides, I worked very hard on this spread, you know,” I whined playfully. “Maybe you should be a little more appreciative of my efforts.”

“I’m a hero. You’re not supposed to rob stores while I can see you.”

“I compensated the store.”

“Yes, with a bar of solid gold,” she said dryly. “Gee, I wonder if that’ll raise any questions.”

“Doesn’t matter. Technically, I didn’t even rob anyone. I just grossly overpaid for my spontaneous takeout order.”

“You’re impossible. I still don’t see how this will get you a Heroic Spirit though,” she said, shaking her head. “Aren’t catalysts supposed to be mythical relics? You know, from archeological dig sites and stuff.”

“Many are,” I agreed, “but not always. The only requirement is that it be something near and dear to the Heroic Spirit in question.”

“Joy. Who’re you trying to summon? The god of tofu?”

I chuckled at that. She wasn’t entirely wrong. My target would probably enjoy that title rather than be offended.

Truthfully, the tofu wasn’t as important as the home-cooked meal. Sure, myths said she loved it, but it was what it represented that was truly vital: a home.

I laughed and rubbed the back of my head. “Well, Missy, I’m trying to summon my wife.”

“What?”

“I know what I said.”

“John, I know a century of celibacy must have been hard, but coercing a heroic figure of legend with your Command Seals is a new low.”

“Ew. Just, ew. I’m trying to summon Tamamo-no-Mae, the legendary fox yokai of Japan.”

“You mean the one that almost destroyed Japan? How the hell is she related to food? And why would you even want her?”

“The story’s a lot more complicated than you’d think,” I explained patiently. “Besides, she’s perfect. She’s obscenely powerful and has zero interest in the Holy Grail because her wish is completely achievable without bloodshed of any kind.”

“Please don’t tell me her wish is for a plate of high-quality tofu. I think I’ll… I’m not sure what I’ll do but that’s gotta be against the rules somewhere. Legendary figures aren’t supposed to be that lame.”

“Shush, Missy. And don’t talk about my wife like that.”

So saying, I cut myself and allowed my blood to drip onto the summoning circle.

I began to chant:

“Let feast and floof be the essence,
Let the love of a happy household be the foundation,
Let fried tofu be the catalyst I pay tribute with.

Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall,
Let the four cardinal gates close,
Let the three-forked road from the Crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.

I hereby declare:

Your heart shall be mine for eternity.
My fate shall be your peace.
If you would share in my adventures, submit to this will and answer!

An oath shall be sworn here:

I shall attain all the virtues of the smokehouse.
I shall hold dominion over all the evils of the restaurant.

From the Seventh heaven, bound by three great words of power,
Come forth from the ring of restraints, protector of the holy barbeque!”

I wasn’t unused to dumping unreasonable quantities of prana into the air; that was how I enacted wishcraft. I’d found that English oak and Texas oak had slightly different qualities when used as smoking chips and I naturally preferred the Lone Star variety.

But those times when I used wishcraft were nothing in comparison to this moment. Those moments were bribes, a little something-something under the table so Gaia wouldn’t throw a hissy fit over what ultimately was of zero consequence. I could wish up a Texas oak the size of Big Ben and still not use a fraction of the prana I was outputting now.

The difference between a mundane object and a woman who was once revered as a goddess was that wide. Had it not been for runes mastered under Scathach, never mind the Clock Tower, every magus in all of Europe would have flocked to my workshop in a chaotic stampede.

And then, she appeared as the light faded.

Tamamo-no-Mae was without question a beauty worthy of legends. Ballads and poems had been composed in her honor. Emperors coveted her time like jealous fanboys at a K-pop idol’s handshake event and lesser men had been turned to religion with but a glimpse of her face. Had it not been for my old teacher, I would have sworn upon the Throne that the woman who stood before me had no equals.

She sat at the head of the low table, on her knees and with her hands in her lap. She was adorned in a blue, low-cut kimono. A large ribbon parted her pink hair into twin tails framed by her vulpine ears.

She was the picture of Japanese nobility. Where the Witch Queen’s presence was intimidating and overpowering, like a spear held at my throat, Tamamo’s was austere and elegant, yet no less authoritative for it. Hers was the demeanor of a woman who saw no need to exalt herself, yet expected respect as a matter of due course.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and I was captivated all over again. Dazzling pools of amber-gold met my own, peering deep into me with the experience of one of Japan’s most feared legends.

Then, Missy shattered the mood with but six words. “Holy shit. I think I’m gay.”

I sighed. I knew I should have done the summoning alone. Then again, she really wanted to see one performed. “Really, Missy?”

“And a furry… Does this make me a furry?”

Tamamo scowled. “Mou! Way to ruin the moment, you dumb blonde.”

“Wha–! Dumb blonde? Who’re you calling a dumb blonde?”

“Well, gee, I wonder how many blondes there are in this room.”

“You… You woodland pest!”

“Excuse you? This is my summoning and I’m the pest? How dare you? This was supposed to be perfect! I would appear, introduce myself to my new husband, and we’d share a lovely, candlelit dinner together. Why are you here?”

“Hey, I just wanted to see how one of these things worked. And you’re not married!”

I groaned in exasperation. I should have expected this to be honest. Tamamo and Missy both had strong personalities. Though her sole ambition was to have a loving household, Tamamo could be as vindictive as the fox she resembled. And Missy, well, she had a reputation as legendary as Scion on Earth-Bet; she wasn’t used to strangers talking back to her.

“Enough of that,” I interrupted. “Tamamo, it’s a pleasure to meet you. As I’m sure you’re aware, I am your summoner, John Soprano. I was given the task of overseeing the Fifth Holy Grail War. I have no desire for the grail and am not one of the seven participants. The woman next to me is Missy Biron, my maid.”

“Oho, the help, is she?” Tamamo said snidely. She bowed again, her nose twitching slightly as she caught the scent of the feast. I saw her eyes stray towards the plate of inarizushi. Clearly, I’d done something right. “Very well, husband, I shall tolerate her presence. Please know that I will be most cross with you should your eyes stray to the bimbo.”

“B-Bimbo?” Missy muttered.

“Don’t start, Tamamo. We don’t have that kind of relationship. I tell the Clock Tower magi that she’s my maid to get them to leave her be, but she is more like my student than anything. Please treat her accordingly.”

“Oh, very well,” Tamamo said, dropping the haughty look in favor of a kinder, if no less teasing smirk. “She is rather easy to rile up, isn’t she?”

“She is. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. The ritual gave you enough information about the modern age and me.”

“Of course, but where’s the fun in following expectations? Do you truly have no interest in the grail?”

“None whatsoever. When this is all over, we’re going to start up a restaurant.”

“Excellent,” she clapped happily. “Only fools seek wishes. The truly wise work to turn their dreams into truth with their own hands.”

“Agreed.”

“Then, as two people who would love nothing more than peace, I entrust myself to you. My summoner. My master. My hubby~”

Author’s Note

I really can’t think of a more fitting Servant for John than Tamamo. I guess Billy the Kid might fit if I leaned more into the Texas theme, but nah.