Chapter Text
Two men conversed in a cafeteria, a pristine counter separating them. It was a lazy evening, the kind conducive to an idle, meaningless conversation about nothing. Standing behind the counter was a tall, white-haired man clad in red. His arms were crossed, and he was clearly not entertaining the other man’s nonsense. The other man was a shirtless, barefooted, muscular dirty-blonde. His arms, chest and face were wrapped in scars. From the depth and texture of the scars, they were clearly the result of deep gashes, the kind one might imagine came from fighting a dragon. Having picked a rib clean, he dropped the bone onto his plate to join several others and licked his fingers when the chef answered his query.
“No.”
A simple, concise denial of an impassioned plea. This rejection was not received warmly.
“C’mon man, just give it a chance!”
But the chef stood resolute.
“Absolutely fucking not.”
The diner sighed and offered a dismissive handwave as his retort.
“Seriously? I thought you were cool, dude.”
It was a sophomoric attempt to get a rise out of his would-be opponent, and not one he would so easily fall for. Before he could fire off a snarky barb, a new challenger approached, waving cheerfully at the both of them.
“Emiya! Beowulf! Whatcha guys chatting about?”
The Servants directed their attention at their Master. His hair was shaggier than normal. A line divided his cheek. And a lazy energy wafted off him. Clearly, the tell-tale signs of recently awaking from a nap. He yawned as he sat next to the King of Savagery. Fujimaru rubbed the back of his head as he took a menu from Emiya. The Wrought Iron Chef, silently grateful for some fresh blood in this conversation, hoped to divert the subject.
“Nap? This late in the afternoon and you’ll be up all night, Master.”
Fujimaru rubbed his eyes and blinked before looking back up at Emiya.
“Hmm? Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m still catching up on sleep from my last adventure. Just wanted to get some food in me before packing it in for the night. What do you guys recommend?”
Beowulf nudged him with his elbow as he wiped his hands with a napkin.
“You oughta try these ribs, Master. This big red buzzkill may not be any fun, but he sure knows how to grill beef.”
Emiya held back a chuckle and shook his head.
“We’ve been experimenting with some dry rub recipes. This batch came out particularly well. And if you think mixing insults in with your praise is a good way to convince me to help you, you’re shit out of luck.”
Beowulf rolled his eyes and lazily flipped Emiya the bird. Fujimaru, his interest just as piqued as his appetite, felt a strong desire to learn more.
“Okay, so a half-rack to start, and what is happening?”
Emiya fired off his response while Beowulf was mid-swig. His drink of choice was an ordinary lager, stored in an insulated growler. Just a light little something to go with his dinner. Unlike certain kings in Chaldea, the Geatish Berserker was a man of simple tastes.
“Beowulf is trying to get me to abuse my Noble Phantasm for a stupid meme.”
Beowulf shook his head derisively and held his palms out.
“Nuh uh. No friggin’ way. Don’t spin this like I’m some terminally-online weirdo. It’s gonna be badass! And besides, you owe me.”
Emiya cocked his head, a fresh scowl on his face.
“And just what the hell makes you think that.”
Beowulf leaned forward, elbow on the counter, and pointed his index finger at Emiya.
“Ripping off my NP.”
In this instance, Beowulf was referring to Hrunting, the sword gifted to him by Unferth, thegn of the Danish king, Hrothgar. Emiya tossed his head back and scoffed.
“Spare me. Don’t act like you give a shit about that sword of yours. The first thing you do when you unleash your Noble Phantasm in battle is throw your swords to the ground.”
Emiya was referring to the attack Beowulf deployed in combat as his Noble Phantasm, Grendel Buster. It was a fearsome barrage of strikes which unleashed his full fury on his foe. Just as Emiya described, it did indeed begin with Beowulf discarding his weapons so he could close with and destroy his enemy using his bare hands.
“That doesn’t give you the right to just steal it whenever the mood strikes you!”
“I’m not stealing a goddamned thing! I make copies and alter them for my own purposes. Besides, at least I’m getting decent mileage out of it. Hrunting’s most famous feat is being “the sword that broke when Beowulf fought Grendel’s mother”. You can’t expect me to believe you feel any loyalty to it.”
Fujimaru, having gotten up and grabbed some ribs from the self-service line while the pair argued, had returned to his seat. His head ping-ponged between them as they continued. While this was not the opportune moment to disrupt, he silently admitted that Emiya had a point. His application of Hrunting’s target tracking capabilities was to far greater effect than Beowulf using his own copy in battle. Really, any sharp object would have sufficed for the Geat’s needs.
“Hey, don’t act like you treat your Noble Phantasm as anything other than a convenient tool, ya uppity bastard.”
Emiya pointed his own finger at Beowulf.
“I treat my magecraft with nothing but the utmost respect!”
“Motherfucker I watched you make a spatula to scrape a smudge off the counter just after breakfast!”
Emiya slammed his palm on the counter.
“And that was a spatula that could KILL A GOD!”
Beowulf lurched forward, getting nose-to-nose with Emiya.
“Just gimme my goddamn road roller!”
“No! You can’t just throw punches and yell “ORAORAORA!” like Jotaro, and then turn around and ask for a road roller like DIO! Reference one of them, and stay consistent! Pick a goddamned lane!”
Leaping at the chance to deescalate, Fujimaru dropped a bone onto his plate, wiped his mouth, and interjected.
“Okay, now you’ve lost me. Road roller? What are you guys talking about?”
Emiya and Beowulf simultaneously turned their heads toward Fujimaru. Having the audience of their Master reminded the Servants to not get swept up in the energy of the situation. They each took a deep breath and calmed themselves. Emiya addressed Fujimaru’s query.
“Ahem. Road roller. A construction vehicle with what is essentially a large pipe as its front wheel, used to flatten freshly-laid asphalt and other substrate in the creation and repair of paved roads. Also known to some as a “steamroller”, because the earliest models were powered by steam engines.”
Reading the look of confusion on Fujimaru’s face, Beowulf jumped in.
“You know. From JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure?”
Fujimaru shook his head.
“I don’t remember that episode of JoJo. Where was there a road roller?”
Emiya cocked his head at him.
“It’s from the end of Stardust Crusaders. You know, when Jotaro and DIO have their climactic showdown?”
Beowulf chimed in, pantomiming lifting something heavy overhead and slamming it below.
“Come on, Master! ROAD ROLLA DA!”
Fujimaru waved his hands and shook his head.
“Whoa! No spoilers!”
Beowulf and Emiya look at each other, eyes rife with suspicion, before returning their attention to Fujimaru. Their Master continued to plead his case.
“I know, I know. Stardust Crusaders finished not too long ago, but that was a really busy year for me! Finished high school, got headhunted by Chaldea, et cetera. I keep meaning to go back and finish it but stuff keeps getting in the way.”
Beowulf’s mouth was slightly agape. He lazily pointed a finger at Fujimaru as he collected his thoughts. Emiya took the opportunity to tug this thread their Master had dangled before them.
“Master, you’re aware Stardust Crusaders has been over for a great many years, aren’t you?”
Fujimaru shook his head and chuckled.
“I mean, sure, if you’re talking about that OVA from a while ago. But I heard it was pretty lame. Honestly, I can’t believe they decided to turn that into a two-season anime. They even made the first season a prequel, inventing a backstory about the Joestar Family. I thought that was a great way to really build up the tension for the war against DIO.”
Beowulf cocked his head at Emiya and mouthed “OVA” at him. Catching it from the corner of his eye, Emiya tilted his head toward Beowulf and answered, not taking his eyes off Fujimaru.
“Original Video Animation. Direct-to-video release, analogous to a miniseries in length and scope. There was one based on Stardust Crusaders released in the nineties. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything groundbreaking. DIO used an oil tanker vice a road roller in that one for some stupid reason.”
Beowulf nodded, then scratched his chin in contemplation. Something about the way his Master described the franchise seemed off to him. Fujimaru spoke as he gathered his thoughts.
“Yeah, but obviously, it was just called JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, since it was the first one.”
At this, Emiya and Beowulf turned to face each other and locked eyes. Beowulf pointed a finger at Fujimaru.
“Does he…?”
Emiya nodded.
“Yeah, I think he does.”
Beowulf shook his head softly in disbelief.
“Wow. I can’t believe it.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s pretty astonishing.”
Fujimaru put his hands up in frustration and started turning his head, switching his focus between both of them.
“What are you two talking about?!”
Emiya addressed him. There was a measured concern to the tone of his voice, not unlike that of someone trying to gently break difficult news. Similar to, for example, a doctor telling a recently comatose patient that he had been asleep for nine years.
“Master. Stardust Crusaders has been finished since 1992.”
Fujimaru rolled his eyes and nodded, bemused.
“Okay, funny prank guys. What’s the angle here? You gonna tell me that history corrected itself around the Singularities and JoJo's Bizarre Adventure somehow came out twenty years earlier than I remember? Gonna have to try harder than that to punk this guy.”
Fujimaru crossed his arms and wore a smug look on his face. Nobody was getting one over on him today. Beowulf turned to Emiya.
“You hearin’ this?”
Emiya hung his head.
“Unbelievable.”
Unwilling to let his Master’s erroneous beliefs go uncorrected, Beowulf put his hand on Fujimaru’s shoulder.
“JoJo is based on a long-running manga by Hirohiko Araki. It’s been in publication since 1987, first as a weekly, then as a monthly.”
But Fujimaru stood resolute in his delusion.
“Listen, I appreciate the dedication to the bit. Truly. Even more, I respect you two teaming up for it. Honestly, the arguing you did to suck me in? Brilliant. I mean, it never even occurred to me that I’ve never seen you two interact, even though Emiya projects Hrunting, like, all the time.”
The Servants glared at each other as Fujimaru took a pause to breathe, returning their attentions to him when he continued.
“But if JoJo was based on a manga, I’d know about it.”
Emiya rubbed his temples and outstretched his palm towards Fujimaru.
“Master, please. It plainly says during the opening credits of each part: “Based on the manga by Hirohiko Araki”!”
Fujimaru looked down and away, breaking eye contact.
“I always skip the opening credits.”
Beowulf smacked his own forehead in response.
“Are you shitting me? That’s the worst thing you’ve said all day!”
Sputtering, and clearly uncomfortable being on the backfoot, Fujimaru replied.
“Those OPs are always filled with spoilers! Even the ones that just hint with their imagery spoil huge plot stuff if you pay close enough attention!”
Astonished, Emiya couldn’t contain himself.
“That’s only for anime based on manga!”
Beowulf jumped in as well.
“And the OPs are amazing! You can’t just skip them!”
Before they could continue berating Fujimaru, a new person intervened. An erstwhile savior, come from nowhere to grant him deliverance.
“Would you two shut the hell up?! For the love of every god in every pantheon, enough already! Is that a JoJo reference? Knock it off! Not everything is a reference to some dumb cartoon! Plenty of people here don’t care about Japanese media you weebs!”
The trio whipped their heads towards the haughty interloper. They knew that voice and attitude quite well. A vain, surprisingly needy goddess:
Ishtar, who couldn’t stand not being the center of attention, and clearly hadn’t learned any lessons from her latest calamity.
Beowulf and Emiya side-eyed each other before addressing the famously spoiled Mesopotamian goddess of beauty, war, and fertility. Emiya initiated a rapid-fire tandem comeback with Beowulf.
“It’s not our fault there’s a lot of JoJo references to be found here.”
“Summer Martha’s Noble Phantasm is basically DIO’s road roller attack.”
“Summer Nobunaga manifesting a spirit to attack her foes? That’s literally a Stand.”
“Ozymandias sounds exactly like DIO.”
Fujimaru smacked his head.
“Holy crap, he does! That’s why I recognized his voice! No wonder you spent that farming run last week trying to make him yell “Za Warudo”!”
Beowulf pointed at Fujimaru.
“See? Even Master gets it.”
Emiya shook his head and chuckled.
“Besides, it’s not like you have any room to talk.”
Ishtar scowled at him.
“And just what is that supposed to mean.”
Emiya answered.
“I’m sorry, do you think we’ve forgotten “Dead Heat Summer Race”?”
“Watch it- “
Beowulf cut her off, starting another combo chain with Emiya.
“A cross-country race.”
“With vast riches as the prize.”
Ishtar pointed angrily at Emiya.
“Hey! I- “
The unlikely pair carried on, unperturbed,
“That was secretly just an evil scheme.”
Ishtar cut in, futilely.
“I am not evil- “
Beowulf and Emiya kept speaking over her.
“To reassemble a corpse of unimaginable power.”
“All planned by the race coordinator to become an all-powerful tyrant.”
At this, Ishtar slammed her hand on the counter.
“Shut up! I thought we all agreed to put summer behind us! And my plan wasn’t to become a tyrant! It was just to reascend to my full godhood! It was all to help Master!”
“You’ve lost your last marble if you think pouting and giving a shitty apology means we all forgot what you did.”
Ishtar growled.
“And what the hell did any of that have to do with your stupid show?!”
“That was literally the plot of Steel Ball Run!”
Fujimaru nudged Beowulf, whispering so as to not be a distraction.
“Steel Ball Run?”
“Part Seven of the manga.”
Fujimaru’s eyes lit up.
“There’s seven parts?!”
Emiya looked away from the angry Pseudo-Servant for a moment.
“Eight, actually. JoJolion is ongoing. And Part Four’s anime is ongoing as well. I think it’ll be done by Christmas.”
“Holy shit!”
“Honestly, one of the best parts of humanity being restored is all the continuations to random shit we watched/read/played during our apocalypse downtime.”
Beowulf turned to Ishtar.
“And then there was that bit with Medb’s prison! Part Six was set in a prison.”
“I haven’t watched the show! I don’t know what any of that is!”
Emiya looked at Beowulf.
“If memory serves, the prison stuff was pretty much an accident. The race was clearly inspired by SBR, but I think the rest of it was a coincidence.”
“Shit, that’s a good point. You’re probably right.”
“Would you two stop having sidebars while I’m right here! How many times do I have to say I don’t watch or read JoJo’s Weird Whatever?!”
“Bizarre Adventure.”
“Who gives a shit!”
Emiya crossed his arms and glared at Ishtar.
“Let’s assume, just for a moment, that you’re telling the truth.”
“Goddesses never lie!”
Emiya, Fujimaru, and Beowulf exchanged quiet glances before all staring at Ishtar in dead silence. She sighed and slumped her shoulders.
“Whatever.”
“Where’d you get that crazy idea from in the first place?”
“I came up with it myself.”
“Uh huh.”
Ishtar stamped her foot angrily, much akin to a child starting a tantrum.
“What? You don’t think I’m capable of coming up with a masterplan all by myself?”
Beowulf shrugged.
“If you were that smart, your plan wouldn’t have crumbled at the finish line.”
Emiya piled on.
“Better yet, you would have recognized it was a foolish idea in the first place and decided not to do it at all.”
“I have divine wisdom!”
“If you’re so smart, stop breaking my fucking microwaves!”
Ishtar got nose-to-nose with Emiya. Another trait Ishtar had picked up from her host was an inability to use modern technology. Across the cafeteria there was a corner with several microwave ovens, all placed for the convenience of the Servants and staff. On the wall behind those microwaves was a portrait of a Servant. It was Ishtar’s face, and superimposed atop that face was a red circle with a line through it.
“It wasn’t my fault! If it has a button with a picture of a potato on it, it should be able to bake a potato!”
“You have to take the foil off! Everyone knows that!”
Ishtar turned to Fujimaru, pleading for help.
“Master, aren’t you going to say anything?!”
This shook Fujimaru from his introspection. The look on his face told the assemblage that his mind had been elsewhere.
“Sorry, I was just remembering how cool it was that Babbage became a Transformer. What’s going on?”
Ishtar hung her head and sulked. She’d be getting no assistance in this fight she picked. Weary and angry, she grumbled under her breath. Emiya and Beowulf heard her voice, but couldn’t make out what she said.
“What was that?”
“I said it was Wacky Races, okay?! Most of the plan was mine, but I filled in the gaps with Wacky Races.”
Wacky Races, of course, was a Hanna-Barbera cartoon from 1968, featuring teams of competitors racing across North America, using era-appropriate gimmicks, schemes, and devices to beat their opponents.
“Hmm.”
Fujimaru chimed in.
“I mean, it’s no Scooby-Doo, but Wacky Races is still pretty good.”
Emiya and Beowulf locked eyes and broke into devilish grins. Beowulf spoke first.
“You think that makes miss “goddess of beauty” over here Penelope Pitstop?”
Emiya shook his head.
“No no, that’s a little too on the nose. We have to remember that she lost at the end.”
Beowulf nodded and pointed at Emiya.
“Great point. Who was that guy that never won any of the races?”
Fujimaru piped up.
“Dick Dastardly, right?”
Ishtar whined.
“Oh, don’t help these jackasses, Master.”
Emiya chuckled.
“That’s exactly right, Master. Hey Beowulf, you know what I’m thinking?”
Ishtar suddenly got very serious.
“You better not say what I think you’re thinking.”
Beowulf stroked his chin.
“Well, Dick Dastardly had a long-suffering animal companion who was way smarter than he was.”
“And just better overall in every conceivable way.”
Ishtar’s eyes lit up with fury.
“Don’t finish that thought.”
Beowulf paid her no mind.
“Which would make Gugalanna…”
“Don’t. You. Dare.”
Mana began to swirl around Ishtar. In far too deep to stop now, Emiya finished the comparison.
“Muttley.”
There was a blinding flash. Searing heat. And then. Nothing. Nothing at all.
Later
Emiya opened his eyes slowly. He scanned his surroundings, immediately piecing together what had transpired. Ishtar had lost her temper and killed him. Presumably Beowulf as well.
The summoning chamber. It was about what he expected. He shook his head and mumbled to himself.
“Shame she can’t use those gems to buy a sense of humor.”
A voice answered from the doorway. It was one he’d recognize anywhere.
“Why did you feel so compelled to antagonize Ishtar?”
Emiya looked up, stretching his newly-reconstituted limbs.
“Hey Artoria. Time is it?”
Artoria shook her head.
“Long past time for you to stop with such childish shenanigans.”
Emiya chuckled.
“Good to see you too. Seriously, what time is it?”
“Just before midnight.”
“Not bad. Beowulf come through yet?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“He beat me? Son of a bitch.”
“Why. Just why, Shirou?”
Emiya shrugged, making his way for the door.
“Maybe I think Ishtar has an attitude problem and should get taken down a peg or two every now and again.”
“Truly? And you believe it is your place to do so?”
“Maybe I’m morally and ethically opposed to humans getting body-jacked and used as vessels for Heroic Spirits.”
“Or perhaps you were in the mood to. What is the term? Be a “troll”?”
Emiya laughed.
“More than one thing can be true at once.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Besides, what brings you here so late? Figured you be asleep by now.”
Artoria glowered at him.
“You were supposed to cook for me after Book Club.”
“How was that, by the way?”
“Nothing extraordinary. We read Dante’s Divine Comedy.”
“Not bad, as far as Renaissance literature goes.”
“Come now. No more stalling. You owe me dinner.”
The pair walked off in the direction of the cafeteria.
"Ishtar isn't still hanging around, is she?"
"No. She has been given a one-week ban from the cafeteria for her actions."
"Thank goodness. At least my microwaves will be safe."
"You could at least pretend to sound remorseful. I can only assume you did everything in your power to make her lose her temper."
"Not my fault a so-called "higher being" can't take a damn joke."
"Deflect all you want, I still believe you are mostly to blame. And I expect "the works" with my meal as recompense for the delay."
“Seriously? I just died. Don’t I get a night off?”
“Not when you so carelessly brought it upon yourself.”
“Heh heh. Worth it.”