Kazuya woke to sunlight blasting through the window like a celestial flashbang. He groaned, rolling onto his side, hair a mess and face half-buried in the pillow, as if hoping the world would give up and let him sleep another five minutes. Or five hours.
"Ugh… school…" he mumbled, voice dragging like a zombie too lazy to hunt brains.
He sat up slowly, scratching his head and yawning—a sound more like a dragon's rumble in sleep mode. His half-closed eyes wandered the room as he tried to remember why the hell he had to get out of bed. Then something sparked in his mind.
*[Fate Gacha]*
"Oh… right." A grin spread across his lips before he even realized it. "The three daily summons."
It was like someone had jammed a magical battery into his chest. The laziness evaporated like a minor demon banished by a morning exorcism.
Sure, he could gripe about school, the uniform, or the infernal alarm clock, but one thing got him up faster than any normal motivation: the chance to pull an absurd Servant first thing in the morning.
He stretched, tossing the blanket aside with energy that hadn't existed thirty seconds ago.
"Let's go, golden finger. Show me what you've got today…"
He immediately rolled his daily [Fate Gacha], heart racing.
*Plim.*
*[You received: Pioneer of the Stars (Rank EX)]*
*[Description: A unique skill granted only to those who changed the course of human history. Grants the ability to turn "impossible missions" into "achievable events." Where there is no path, you become the path.]*
Kazuya read the description. Then read it again. Then let out a nervous chuckle, the kind you give when you see your credit card bill and realize *you* ordered delivery thirty times that month.
"…Is this for real? I just got an EX-rank skill? One even Gilgamesh doesn't have?"
But there was no time to process fully. It was as if every era of humanity collided in his head—renaissances, revolutions, breakthroughs. Every invention, every advance, every spark of human genius that once defied the impossible now buzzed in his soul like comets slicing through the veil of reason.
He gasped.
Not from pain. From expansion.
His mind stretched beyond human limits, like a ribbon pulled between galaxies. And it didn't hurt—it was beautiful. A flash of ideas, of possibilities. The skill filtered his memories, and he recalled humanity's history.
Kazuya saw the moment humans learned to fly and intuitively understood how to make wings work. He saw the first spark of fire kindled by human hands and knew why it never dies. He saw the Moon stepped on. The zero invented. Writing born. Medicine rising. Steel forged. The internet emerging. Every instance where humanity stared into the abyss of impossibility and said, "What if I try anyway?"
And now…
That thought was etched into the core of Kazuya's existence.
Not as hope.
Not as faith.
But as fact.
If something was impossible, he was the exception that proved otherwise.
After absorbing the skill, Kazuya stared at the translucent screen floating before him like a gateway to another universe. Which, technically, it was.
After that insane skill, *Pioneer of the Stars (Rank EX)*, he was still dizzy, electric, as if he'd chugged five energy drinks and taken a full course on human history at once.
"Alright, second summon…" he muttered, a glint in his eye that'd make even a pay-to-win gacha feel guilty for denying an SSR.
He clicked the button.
*Plim.*
*[You received: Scathach's Ordinary Panties]*
*[Description: An intimate (literally) item from one of the most feared women in Celtic history. No magical effects. No stat boosts. But… it might raise questions.]*
Kazuya blinked.
Read it again.
Closed his eyes, took a deep breath… and read it a third time.
"…What?"
He stared at the screen as if it had just claimed the Moon was made of cheese, Gilgamesh wore Crocs, or Ishtar was emotionally stable. None of it made sense. It was like the universe had hit the randomize button and decided to toss a piece of legendary underwear into his lap. Literally.
And there it was. Panties. Simple. Purple. Folded with such menacing perfection it felt more like a trap than a gift. Floating before him with the solemnity of a holy grail.
"…This is actually happening? I went from an EX skill to a questionable collector's fetish?"
He ran a hand over his face, laughing nervously.
"No, no, of course not. It was too good to be true. My E-rank luck was just setting up the drop. Now it's back with interest."
He looked at the ceiling, pleading for answers from the multiverse. "This is, like… gacha karma, right?"
With a dramatic sigh, he clicked the inventory icon (something he'd discovered he had). To hide the embarrassing item. And, of course, as if the system itself wanted to troll him, the description popped up again. In bold. With sparkles.
"Why does it have sparkles?! It's not even a magical item!!"
He stumbled out of bed, still reeling from the contrast between the cosmic grandeur of an EX skill and the near-criminal randomness of… mythological underwear.
"Okay. Breathe, Kazuya. You've got one more roll. Maybe the universe just wanted balance. Like, 'You got something awesome, now take something awkward.' Cosmic justice. Whatever."
He snapped his fingers, like prepping for the final round of an epic card duel.
"Third summon. Let's see if I get a Servant… or Tamamo's bra."
And clicked.
*Plim.*
*[You received: Dual Summon]*
*[Servants: Ereshkigal & Ishtar]*
"…No way."
His voice came out as a wisp of air.
"No way! No w—"
*CRAAACK.*
The sound wasn't quite thunder, nor ordinary magic. The room shook, sunlight swallowed by a golden glow, and suddenly, two magical circles formed on the floor.
Not one.
Two.
The first to materialize was *her*.
She emerged from the light as if the heavens themselves had grown legs—absurdly well-shaped legs, mind you.
Her body seemed sculpted with lust and divine pride. Her obsidian-black hair, tied in twin tails with black ribbons, swayed like enchanted serpents. Her crimson eyes burned with the intensity of a falling comet, and her smile… oh, that smile. Mischievous, dangerous, utterly irresistible.
Her white-and-gold top left little to the imagination, molding to her curves with near-criminal perfection. The fabric barely covered her ample chest and exposed her midriff as if saying, "You're gonna stare, so why hide it?" The black-and-gold tiara atop her head glimmered with the circle's magical light. A golden jewel at her waist swayed, shining over her perfect curves.
A black thigh-high stocking adorned her right leg, etched with golden filigree, while her left ankle bore a bracelet fit for an empress dragging empires in her wake. Her left arm, wrapped in a black-and-gold glove, drew attention.
Ishtar was there. The Mesopotamian goddess of war and love.
She opened her eyes fully, staring at Kazuya, surprised, with a look hard to decipher.
The second circle glowed with a colder light, as if the underworld itself had risen to join the show.
Slowly, wrapped in a gothic, silent aura, *she* appeared.
Unlike her radiant sister, Ereshkigal was shadow and elegance, power and melancholy. Her long golden hair, tied with butterfly-shaped ribbons, flowed like sacred silk. Her red-and-black cape billowed without wind, as if the air respected her station.
Her short, gothic dress hugged her body perfectly, contrasting the black tiara on her head—more a hidden queen's crown than mere adornment. Her ruby eyes held serene sadness but also an inner fire only someone bearing the underworld's weight could possess.
Ereshkigal looked at him, surprise and emotion dancing in her gaze.
Kazuya felt information about their summoning flood his mind, a burning sensation flowing into his hand: Command Seals.
As the name implied, Command Seals were a special form of contractual magic granting a Master three claims of absolute obedience over their Servants. They had other uses, like healing wounds, boosting attacks, enabling Noble Phantasms, or summoning a Servant across vast distances instantly. But their most common use was forcing a Servant to obey an order they might otherwise refuse. If a Master was particularly malicious, they could even strip a Servant's free will entirely…
Though he'd read *many* doujins where rogue Masters ordered their Servants to become living cum dumps or onaholes, he quickly banished those thoughts, focusing on the information imprinted in his brain.
The two Servants before him, Ishtar and Ereshkigal, remembered everything. Or rather, they remembered the version of him from the [Experience Card] who lived as Ritsuka Fujimaru.
He recalled the mod he'd spent weeks refining before reincarnating here. *"Love and Death of the Seventh Singularity: Happy Ending,"* he called it. An alternate version of the Babylonia campaign, created out of pure otaku whim, tired of bittersweet endings and seeing the two goddesses end up alone, divided by mythological roles that forced them into solitude.
In that mod, he'd programmed extra dialogues, nighttime scenes under the stars, moments of silence and tenderness. One in Uruk, where Ishtar dragged him to a rooftop just to stargaze and pretend she wasn't in love. Another underground, where Eresh revealed the true weight of ruling the dead and how her smile broke, bit by bit.
He'd made both fall in love not just with the game's Fujimaru… but with someone who listened. Who saw them beyond the archetypes of "explosive tsundere goddess" or "timid tragic spirit." As if it were really him in that world. He wanted them to have something no one else gave: an ending where they were loved and whole.
And now, in this world, he *was* that someone, stirring an indescribable emotion within him.
He felt something beyond the awe or euphoria of a guy reincarnated with a gacha skill. It was more. So much more.
Because these weren't just idealized versions. They were *them*. The same ones who stood by him until the end. And that "end" came with a bittersweet reminder: he, or the version of him as Ritsuka, had died.
That was a sort of backstory created as his past life; did his unique skill do this? Well, he supposed so… He died at the story's end, surrounded by the Servants who'd helped him countless times—something he hadn't dwelt on much since arriving in this world, as he hadn't stopped to think about it. This was the backdrop for the two Servants before his eyes.
And now, here they were. Not dolls, not pixels, not characters on a screen.
Ishtar and Ereshkigal.
Goddesses.
With expressions so vivid he almost expected the world to crash just so he could process.
While he was processing, Ishtar and Ereshkigal were staring at him.
Ishtar blinked.
Then blinked again.
Nothing. Not an illusion. Not a charm spell. And definitely not the same face she remembered from her dreams, those foolish, pathetic moments when she, a proud goddess, let herself miss a certain idiotic human with a smile too kind for his own good.
But now… now he was here.
Tall. Strong. With that same look, that same smile. But something was different. *Very* different. If she weren't certain from the information imprinted in her mind about his identity, she wouldn't know he was the Kazuya who'd been humanity's last hope.
She choked on her words, her heart pounding like war drums in Uruk.
*Who… who gave you permission to get this gorgeous, you idiot?* she complained inwardly. It was like the universe had taken everything already dangerous about him—the charm, the golden heart, that damned habit of sacrificing himself for others—and put it in a new body. A body handcrafted by Eden's artisans, with an extra dose of "this isn't fair."
Ishtar crossed her arms, trying to seem indifferent. She failed. Her eyes couldn't stop following him.
Meanwhile, Ereshkigal stood frozen.
It wasn't just him. Not just his soul, the one she'd recognize through a thousand reincarnations, even in the depths of the underworld.
Kazuya's new body glowed like something sacred, something not of this world. It wasn't ordinary beauty. It was as if the heavens had gathered every detail that made her blush and placed it right before her.
She wanted to look away. She couldn't.
*Oh… this is too cruel…*
Ereshkigal felt her face burn violently. The goddess of death trembled. Literally trembled.
Her heart ached with longing, and now it ached more from proximity. From intensity. From the fact that he'd become something so beyond, yet remained the same.
The silence stretched for a few moments.
Kazuya took a deep breath.
It was the only thing he could do.
Breathe.
Try to remember how to pull air into his lungs, hold it, release it. Think? Forget it. Speak? An abstract concept. Reason? Only if reasoning was "holy crap, they're real. They're here."
He stood rooted where the magical circles had faded, the floor faintly smoking as if physics had been rewritten with a touch of genius and madness. He wanted to smile. Wanted to run to them. Say he missed them, as he would if he fully embraced his life as Ritsuka Fujimaru. That even in another world, another body, another name… it was still him.
But the silence in the room was too heavy.
And he wasn't the only one feeling it.
Ishtar stood still, but her fingers drummed against her arm with divine impatience. You could see in her eyes she was holding back. Every second without exploding was a war waged within her. A war between pride and longing.
Ereshkigal… oh, Eresh. She looked like a living painting from an ancient temple, a blend of pure vulnerability and restrained power. The kind of beauty that broke hearts with a glance. She seemed to have gone back in time—or maybe time had rewound for her.
"You idiot!" Ishtar shouted, finally. Her voice sharp, but choked. She didn't know if she wanted to kick something, leap at his throat, or kiss him until the cosmos forgot logic's laws.
Kazuya blinked.
That was all he could manage against the storm that was Ishtar. Because, let's be honest, when a goddess of war and love calls you an idiot with a trembling voice, teary eyes, and looks like she wants to strangle and hug you at once, anyone with more than three neurons learns to stay quiet and let her talk.
And that's exactly what he did.
Stood there. Still, as Ishtar took a step forward. Then another. Her bare feet tapped the floor softly.
"You thought you could just vanish like that?" she fired, eyes sparking. "Think you could just… die! And disappear! After everything we went through! You think that's fair?"
Kazuya opened his mouth, but Ishtar raised a hand.
"No. I'm not done."
He closed it. Right. Self-preservation first.
"You left us, you know? Even if it wasn't by choice. Even if you saved the world, again. Even if… even if it was all heroic and tragic and the way only you do it. You *died*." She clenched her fists, trembling. "And it was because of your idiotic habit of throwing yourself in front of danger, you idiot!"
Silence.
Then she lowered her head.
And in that moment, that single second when Ishtar's pride gave way to pain, something shattered inside him. Like glass breaking in his chest.
"And now you're here…" she murmured. "And I should be kicking your face. But all I can do is… feel relief."
Kazuya said nothing.
How could he?
The goddess of war stood before him, shaking with emotion like a girl pretending not to crumble, yet still Ishtar—intense, impossible, beautiful in a way only someone who'd toppled walls with a smile could be.
She bit her lower lip, such a simple thing. Then raised her head and looked straight into his eyes. *That* look.
That damned look that made his heart race like an army marching in his chest.
"You're still the same, aren't you?" she said, voice low, more to herself than him. Was she referring to his appearance or the person she knew?
Kazuya opened his mouth. Closed it. Put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath.
"Yeah. More or less."
Ishtar huffed, crossing her arms again, but the motion was more exhausted. Like someone who'd spent years pretending not to miss him and suddenly saw that longing take form with an idiotic smile and eyes that said "sorry" without words.
"Idiot…" she repeated. Softer now. Almost a whisper.
Meanwhile, Ereshkigal finally snapped out of her stupor.
She wasn't like her sister. She didn't shout. Didn't explode. But she felt. And now, she felt so much it seemed her chest would tear.
Ishtar stood firm, battling her pride, while Ereshkigal… well, she took a step forward, as if pulled by a gravitational force that made no sense. And her eyes, oh, those eyes, carried more than mere emotion. They carried eons of silence. Of stifled longing. Of prayers whispered in the depths of her soul.
"Master. K-Kazuya…" she called.
He turned, and as he met Ereshkigal's gaze, something inside him broke—or perhaps was rebuilt in that instant.
Then she spoke. Softly.
"I waited for you."
Those three words. That was all. And they carried more weight than any shout.
Ishtar looked away. Her pride couldn't bear seeing this version of her sister, so vulnerable, so… sincere. But she didn't dare interrupt. Because even she, with all her divine audacity, knew this moment wasn't hers.
Ereshkigal stepped closer. Now, only two steps separated her from Kazuya.
She swallowed hard.
"Even when the world started to fade. Even when the memories began to slip as I returned to the throne. I clung to what remained… because deep down, I knew. I knew I'd still be called to your side. And here I am… I was right."
Kazuya stayed silent, unsure how to handle this exactly.
Reflecting on the memories he'd received from Ritsuka Fujimaru (Kazuya Version), the hours spent playing in his past life, all the time dedicated to coding mods for a happy ending with his Servants—ending in his death and rebirth as a "backstory"—the emotions he felt were strange. A foolish impulse urged him to pull both into a hug, but he held back.
He bit his lower lip, forcing himself not to look away. "I didn't mean to…"
"I know…" Ereshkigal replied, with a smile that hurt. "You never mean to. You just… do. Because that's who you are. The hero who can't stop saving."
Silence.
For a moment, no one moved.
Ereshkigal's breathing was uneven, as if each word had cost a piece of her soul. Ishtar looked aside, arms crossed tightly, shoulders rigid as if the slightest vulnerability would break her.
And Kazuya… well, he felt like he'd been hit by two meteors to the chest.
Two meteors shaped like goddesses who, somehow, still loved him, thanks to a game he'd poured years of dedication into.
He didn't say anything. Because sometimes, words are a waste when all someone needs is to be held tightly.
So he stepped forward.
First, Ereshkigal, hesitant, as if about to flee. Her fingers trembled as he gently took her hand. And before she could even try to pull away, he drew her into a tight, protective hug.
She was soft as an ancient memory, light as a sigh held for eons. Her body trembled slightly against his, as if finally allowing herself to exist there, outside the void. Her scent was faint, like incense burning at a temple's end, and Kazuya realized he'd missed a fragrance he'd never truly forgotten.
Her arms closed around his back with almost reverent delicacy. And in that second, just that second, he felt that maybe… maybe the hell he'd been through was worth it, just to hold Ereshkigal like this.
But then, *Boom!*
Ishtar, jealous, launched herself at them like a shooting star.
"No way I'm staying out of this!"
Kazuya stumbled back, the world blurring until the bed swallowed him with a sudden creak, the mattress protesting under their combined weight. He fell on his back, Ereshkigal still clinging to his left side, and Ishtar…
Her body molded against his with impatient confidence, her knee pressing his thigh, one hand gripping his shirt collar as if ensuring he wouldn't vanish again. Her heat was different from Eresh's: where the underworld goddess was calm and cool like morning mist, Ishtar burned. Her skin vibrated against his.
And he felt it.
Oh, he felt *everything*.
Their racing hearts beating in sync with his. The contrast between Ereshkigal's silent sweetness pressed to his left and Ishtar's proud storm half-draped over him, half-entwined, her head on his shoulder as if hiding emotion with poorly disguised anger.
Kazuya wrapped his arms around their backs, holding both in a single embrace. His fingers traced the soft curve of Ereshkigal's waist, then met Ishtar's firm back beneath her cascading hair.
"That was totally… strategic!" Ishtar declared, snapping out of her jealous reverie. "I just… tripped! Because YOU stood there like an idiot pole in the way! Not my fault if you've got the reflexes of an ancient turtle!"
Kazuya gasped.
"Ishtar… you literally shouted you were jumping."
"Details!" she shot back, looking away but not moving off him. "I just… wanted to make sure you wouldn't run off again! Yes! That's it! I'm… restraining you! That's what's happening here! A containment tactic!"
Ereshkigal, half-pinned between the mattress and Kazuya's arm, gave her sister a look that said, *"Really, Ishtar?"*
Ishtar crossed her arms and turned her face, her cheek burning.
"Don't look at me like that! It's not like I'm happy to be here, stuck to you or anything! This is purely tactical, logical, and… and… convenient!"
"Convenient," Kazuya repeated, blinking, feeling her knee slide between his legs and her elbow rest unceremoniously on his stomach.
"Yes! Convenient!" she retorted, fully flushed. "Besides… Ereshkigal started it! I just… went with the flow! You can't blame me for maintaining the team's emotional balance!"
"…This is what you call convenient?" he grumbled, trying not to lose his breath or composure as Ishtar adjusted herself like she owned the conquered territory.
"Obviously," she replied, nose in the air, even though she was practically sprawled over him. "Convenient, strategic, and… necessary."
"Hm. Sure," Kazuya muttered, swallowing hard as her hair brushed his neck and Eresh's slight trembling persisted against his other side. The quieter goddess said nothing, but her grip on his waist spoke volumes.
A silence fell over the three.
"You're really here, aren't you?" Kazuya finally whispered, as if still testing reality.
Ereshkigal nodded slowly, her face still buried against his chest.
"I never left…" she murmured.
"Of course we are, you idiot, but you better thank me with countless offerings, jewels especially, like the old days…" Ishtar added.
Two goddesses. Two versions of love. Two stories he'd altered on a whim in a game… now here, alive, real.
"Sorry," he said at last. Simple. Raw. Honest.
Ishtar didn't respond.
Ereshkigal tightened her embrace, her hidden face nodding almost imperceptibly.
"You're ours," Ishtar murmured after long seconds. "Even being an idiot, even doing everything wrong… You're ours. So don't you dare die again, got it?"
Kazuya forced a smile.
"Got it. I'll put it on my schedule: don't die for an indefinite period."
Ereshkigal let out a soft laugh. A sound that warmed something inside him.
Ishtar grumbled.
"Idiot…" she repeated, for the thousandth time that morning. But unlike before, this time it was with a choked voice, as if "idiot" also meant *mine*.