Chapter XXXIV: The Passing Days

The clock ticked down on our "vacation," and the closer the nebulous deadline came, the more hectic things seemed to get. There was a kind of nervous air about the facility, a static crackle of anticipation as everyone raced about trying to get the last little bit done before the next step of our mission began. Even I wasn't immune to it.

So I kept up my training sessions with the twins. I tried to impart as much as I could to them before it was time to begin our journey into the next Singularity, but although they were progressing at a steady pace, I'd known from the beginning that there was no way they would be as ready as I wanted them to be by the time of our next Rayshift.

It just wasn't possible to condense years of training and hard won experience down into the span of a single month.

I drilled them all the same. For the most part, it wasn't that much different from our earlier sessions, and I focused them on how to properly aim at a target, how to hit that target even when it was moving, and most importantly, how to pace themselves so that they didn't drain their reserves dry trying to force that target into submission.

Gandr was a useful spell. Easy to use, easy to overcharge into something with surprising punch, and intuitive in how it functioned. I could easily see why Marie thought of it as a cornerstone of combat, to the point that she'd even made it a staple of the official standard issue Chaldea mystic code.

But for all its utility, Gandr was also a relatively weak spell. Eventually, once the simulator was fully fixed and we could bring Servants in safely, I was going to have to drill the twins even more on exactly how useless Gandr was against any Servant with any degree of combat ability, let alone one of the Knight classes that had that Magic Resistance skill that made them such a force to be reckoned with against even the talented, top notch magi I'd heard about from the Mage's Association.

Until then, all I could do was tell them not to rely on it against actual Servants. Distracting the weaker shadow Servants Jeanne Alter had sicced on us during that final battle had been a stroke of incredible luck, but any real Servant wouldn't even slow down before plowing through it.

I hadn't forgotten how easily Medusa had blocked it, like she was swatting a fly. Even if that had been part of my plan, the twins weren't ready to try tactics that ambitious, yet.

Polishing their Gandr wasn't the only thing we worked on, though, because I was a fan of doubling up as much as possible. At least once a week, I also varied things up and took them to a different kind of terrain to focus on how to fight under different conditions. They were getting much better at handling running battles in densely forested areas — small wonder when that was one of our most frequent "arenas" — but they still struggled with the lateral warfare of urban terrain.

It was a little frustrating, but I didn't blame them for having trouble with that. It was harder to get a grasp on thinking in three dimensions than people thought. What was the expression? People rarely looked up? Front and back and side to side were simple enough, but once you added verticality into the mix, things got harder to keep track of.

Obviously, they weren't going to be as good at it as I was. I cheated. I'd been cheating since I got my powers, because the expanded proprioception my bugs gave me made it easier to keep track of everything around me, whether it was above, below, to the side, in front, or behind me. That was just the way it was.

In any case, both Brian (during our hand to hand lessons back when I was with the Undersiders) and the instructors I had been provided as part of the Wards program had emphasized the importance of mastering the basics first and foremost, so that's what I tried to make sure the twins had down pat.

It still wasn't going to be enough for what they were going into.

But I wasn't above stacking the deck, either, which was what brought me to the little room Shakespeare had claimed for himself. He'd already started to decorate it to his liking, and the clash between the stark, sterile modern style of Chaldea's standard and the spread of yellow-paged books, inkwells, and fluffy feather quills set upon a wooden desk that looked like it could have come out of his personal office was a little off-putting.

Not nearly as incongruous as Da Vinci's workshop, set as it was as an island of homely antiquity in a veritable sea of sleek utilitarian modernity, but it still felt weird.

None of that mattered when he turned to me, presenting an unassuming little knife like a knight to his queen.

"You're finished?" I asked as I took hold of the hilt and slid the blade a bare inch or two from the sheath. It didn't look any different from before.

"I've done everything within my power, my dear," said Shakespeare. "Alas! Even one as skilled as I cannot do this work of art true justice, but I have nonetheless done my very best work. It will undoubtedly serve you well."

I arched an eyebrow. "Do it true justice?"

"Your tales are simply far too large for me to bring out its full potential," he said. "I've fit as much of them in as I could, but my dear, my Enchant skill is just too low to fit all of them in their entirety. You asked me to create from this knife a Noble Phantasm of incredible rank and mystery, but alas!" He held a hand to his heart dramatically. "The Rank of C is the highest form to which my creations may aspire!"

My eyes narrowed on him. A quick glance at him with my Master's Clairvoyance confirmed it. "Your Enchant skill is A-Rank," I pointed out. There were higher ranks than that, technically, but A-Rank was already incredibly high.

"And that is the only reason I could accomplish as much as I did," he replied. "My good lady, I think perhaps you underestimate the value of a true Noble Phantasm. My skills allow me to forge one only because it is my nature as a storyteller. However, even my words are insufficient against the exalted legends that have entered the halls of the Throne of Heroes. The effusive praise of a single bard — even one as celebrated as I! — cannot match the prayers of the people who lift these great legends upon their shoulders."

A breath hissed out of my nostrils, and I looked down at the knife, as unassuming as it had been before. There was…something there that hadn't been before, something invisible and intangible, a weight that had nothing to do with gravity or mass.

"So what did you do with it, then?"

He grinned. "That weapon was already a remarkable armament. To have said I took it as far as I was able was no exaggeration — perish the thought! An unparalleled sharpness, a peerless edge, and most importantly of all, lesser dragons will flee at the very sight of it! For a woman who is the bane of the dragonkind, there is no more fitting a weapon!"

My brow furrowed incredulously. "Bane of the dragonkind?"

"Have you not used it to slay a dragon?" Shakespeare asked, still grinning. "Was it not from your own lips that I heard you tell the tale of carving out one's eyes? My dear, those were not simple embellishments, those were the makings of a true legend! Would it not be fitting for such a weapon to make the very wyverns you fought in France tremble in its presence?"

"Those weren't the only things I told you I did with it," I said, conveniently omitting — as I had when I first told him — that this knife and the knife that had done some of those things weren't one and the same.

"But they were by far the most impressive!" Shakespeare insisted. "To simply say that the edge is peerless or the blade exquisite is quite dull, don't you think? Far more compelling to claim that it might cleave fang or scale as readily as flesh and bone, that the blood of dragons has stained its very core red! A decisive weapon drawn only when no other option remains, to be wielded with a single, finishing blow! Your Last Resort!"

"Last…Resort?"

I…honestly, I'd never thought of naming the thing before. It was just a knife. A good knife, a memento of friends I would likely never see again, but it was a knife, and until Da Vinci had literally worked her magic on it, one I'd been well aware had an expiration date. Getting too attached to what would inevitably become a paperweight hadn't been part of any plans, because in the end, it was just a tool. Expendable.

Shakespeare's grin turned positively shark-like. "Quite the appropriate moniker, wouldn't you say? You called it a nano-thorn dagger, but a weapon like this one deserves a name of its own! An identity befitting the deeds it has accomplished! That is a Noble Phantasm!"

Except suddenly, I was keenly aware that I wouldn't be getting rid of it anytime soon. Even without Shakespeare's contributions, Da Vinci had made this thing invaluable. Tinkertech that didn't need a Tinker to keep it working? I'd be a fool to toss it away carelessly.

A "treasured tool," that was the simplified description I'd been given during my crash course on Heroic Spirits and their Noble Phantasms. Weapons, armor, and abilities that embodied the stories of deeds accomplished with them, functioning as an extension of a hero's power. Yeah. Okay. I could get on board with that.

"You did a good job, Shakespeare. Thank you."

He almost seemed to preen under the praise.

"It's to your liking, then?"

Last Resort, huh? It was as good a name as any. Better for sure than anything I might have come up with.

"Yeah. It's perfect."

He chuckled. "Yes, it most certainly is."

But when I turned back to him, he wasn't looking at the knife.

— o.0.O.O.0.o —

Once my newly improved dagger was stashed back in my room — no matter how tempting it might have been to carry it around with me — it was about time to get some lunch, so I made my way to the cafeteria. As with most days, it was largely empty, because the only ones with anything resembling a stable schedule were me and the twins, although there were a few from the morning shift who were grabbing a bite while they had the time.

There was no sign yet of Ritsuka or Rika, but Emiya was still manning the stove, just as he had been a few hours before for breakfast and last night for dinner. I was probably supposed to feel bad about the fact that he'd been relegated so completely to kitchen duty, but it was hard to care as much when he was the only reason we had anything that was actually tasty.

He really was spoiling me. Us. I didn't have to be a precog to predict that things would be rough when this was all over and he had no reason to stick around anymore, or hell, if something went wrong during the Singularities and we lost him. The cafeteria might just be empty for a week, either from mourning or from the simple fact that none of the food would be tasty enough to compare.

He greeted me with a friendly smile and a polite hello when I went up for my food, and the plate he set down on my tray was loaded with what looked like an ordinary grilled cheese sandwich and a small bowl of soup. My nose, however, wasn't as easily deceived as my eyes, and I could smell the sharp burst of extra spices that had been added to the bread and layered between the slices of cheese. A hint of garlic curled up my nostrils, a promise of things to come.

Like I said. We were screwed the instant he was gone.

"Enjoy," he bade me, and then turned away to continue cooking.

I took my tray and found an empty seat at a table off towards the far wall that was also otherwise empty. Since the soup was obviously supposed to be an appetizer, that was the thing I grabbed first, and I lifted the bowl to my lips like it was a cup of tea. It wasn't exactly bitterly cold in Chaldea, but it wasn't the warmest place on Earth, either, and the soup was hot enough to blaze a trail down my throat and into my belly. The heat was invigorating, and the soup, for as simple as it was, was delicious.

As much as he got teased for his culinary talents, Emiya really was a godsend, and it wasn't difficult to wonder if he might have had a significant other in life. Man or woman, a partner who knew how to cook a good meal had their own appeal, and for all of Rika's joking about marriage, even I had to admit that Emiya hit a lot of the right buttons for me.

Just, you know, there was that tiny obstacle in the fact that he was technically dead.

I was just about to take the first bite of my sandwich when a tray plopped down across from mine and Rika herself dropped into the seat as though my woolgathering had summoned her. I blinked at her, nonplussed.

"Something wrong, Rika?"

"You've been avoiding us, Senpai," she said lowly and ominously. "In Orléans, we asked you over and over again, so many times that I can't remember them all, and you never answered." She banged her fist on the table. "Well, this time, I'm not taking no for an answer!"

She jabbed her finger at me, and I had to cross my eyes to look down at it over the bridge of my nose.

"Senpai! How is it that you can control bugs like that anyhow!"

My brow furrowed.

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"That's your burning question?"

"It's been eating me up inside for almost two months!" Rika confirmed. "There's such a thing as being too mysterious, Senpai!"

For the love of —

"We're time travelers," I snapped at her, exasperated. "We go back in time to solve events in history gone awry, caused by wishes made on an omnipotent wish-granting device called a Holy Grail. We summon the spirits of the celebrated dead back to life to help us. Magic and magi exist, and we're in a multi-billion dollar facility with cutting edge tech built into a mountain in freaking Antarctica. Me being able to control bugs is the part you have the most trouble with?"

"This and that are two different things!" Rika insisted. "Besides! I might not understand how it all works, but the rest of that is easy enough to wrap my head around!"

"Time travel is easy to wrap your head around?" I asked her incredulously.

She nodded her head. "I don't gotta understand the nitty gritty stuff to understand how it works!"

That doesn't even —

Abruptly, I became aware of the fact that our little talk had garnered the attention of everyone currently in the cafeteria, which now included Mash, Ritsuka, Arash, and Bradamante, who had apparently been with her on the way in, and even Emiya, who was trying and failing to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, irritated at my glasses being pushed up and out of place even though I was the one who had done it.

"I guess the rest of you want to know, too, is that it?" I asked loudly.

Several of the onlookers looked away as though ashamed of being caught out, and Mash's cheeks flushed pink while Ritsuka found something very interesting about the ceiling.

"Ah, well, that is, Miss Taylor… Um…"

"I mean, you did kind of promise to explain it earlier," Ritsuka pointed out awkwardly.

"And none of you have heard the expression that curiosity killed the cat?"

I wasn't even quite sure why I was so frustrated over it. Maybe because everyone seemed so fixated on something that was utterly mundane compared to the workings that went on here every day. The making of familiars was magecraft 101, and bug familiars were apparently so easy and so common that no self-respecting magi would lower themselves to actually using them. The only thing unusual about mine was the sheer numbers.

"Satisfaction brought it back!" Rika said with a vicious grin.

I looked back at her face, not entirely sure what kind of expression was on mine, but she didn't flinch and she didn't waver. She just stared right back at me.

For an instant, I was tempted to tell them, just to get it all off of my chest. It wasn't like I had been going out of my way to keep everything about myself a secret, but there was a difference between telling Romani and Da Vinci, who were both old enough and mature enough and had been at Chaldea long enough to handle keeping sensitive information to themselves, and telling the twins, who were young, fairly impressionable, and frankly in way over their heads.

And then I remembered something Marie had told me, back when I was still bedridden and trying to put my scattered brains back together.

"Whatever happens, you can't tell anyone where you came from or how you got here. If the Mage's Association got one whiff of the fact you're from a parallel world, they'd have you dissected to find out how. The less people who know are the less people who can be coerced to tell anyone about it."

For two years, I'd been living like that, shirking the question of my past and where I'd come from. It had become a habit to keep things vague and uninteresting, an ingrained response that I reached for whenever someone got too curious. And being entirely fair, it really hadn't been anything more than curiosity before, because there was nothing about me that was otherwise remarkable and most of Team A had a background that was just as varied and colorful as mine, if not quite as extreme. Even Hinako's record was a little too squeaky clean not to be hiding something, and Beryl's public personnel file was so sanitized that it might as well have had every other word blacked out.

There was going to be an inquiry after this was all over. We couldn't expect the world to end and no one to have questions when we brought it back. That meant the Mage's Association would undoubtedly be sending a representative here to investigate, probably someone from what Marie had called the Policies faction, and there was no way Ritsuka and Rika wouldn't be at the top of their list for interrogation.

Marie was right. The less the twins knew about me, the less they could be coerced — one way or the other — into divulging.

So I took a deep, calming breath and forced myself to relax, entirely too conscious of the lack of bugs that would have been moving erratically in the background, otherwise hiding my reactions.

With an exaggerated, put-upon sigh, I dropped my cheek into one hand and lifted my sandwich up with the other.

"It's really not that big of a deal, I don't know why you're all making it one," I said, letting some of my real irritation leak through. "I went through a traumatic event back when I was fifteen and discovered an affinity for controlling familiars. Bugs are just the easiest and most convenient."

Deliberately, I took a casual bite of my sandwich, like none of this was that big of a deal. Image was everything when you were trying to sell what you were saying — I'd learned that lesson many times over during my career.

Rika's grin fell away and her mouth flapped open. "That's… That's so vague, Senpai! There has to be more to it than that! I need the deets!" She smacked the knuckles of one hand against the palm of the other. "Deets, I say! Big, juicy deets!"

I took another bite of my sandwich, chewed it carefully and unhurriedly, and only once I'd swallowed did I give her a smile. "What was it you said, Rika? A girl has to have her secrets if she wants to get married."

Somehow, that sounded even more ridiculous coming out of my mouth than it had hers.

"Screw that!" said Rika. "It can't be that simple! I want my solid facts! As long and hard as possible!"

Bradamante choked on her spit in the background.

"M-maybe there's a good reason Miss Taylor doesn't want to tell us everything," Mash suggested, red creeping over her cheeks and neck.

"She did say it was a traumatic event," Ritsuka mumbled, so low I almost didn't hear him. "Maybe it's more polite not to pry…"

He still wanted to know, it was written all over his face, he just didn't want to be rude and trample all over my feelings. That probably shouldn't have been as much of a novelty as it was.

"It's not as unusual as it sounds, Master," Emiya added, because he'd apparently given up on trying to pretend he wasn't listening. "My own circumstances were somewhat similar. I struggled with my magecraft until a series of life-threatening events helped me to discover my own affinity for swords." As though to punctuate his words, he conjured a long, broad chopping knife with a wooden handle, the kind found in kitchens everywhere. "It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but I was quite hopeless before then. Even simple Strengthening magecraft was something I struggled with."

I slid him a glance, and as his eyes met mine, a sort of understanding passed between us: he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Well, it sounds like the sort of thing that begins every hero's journey," Arash said with a broad smile as he too came to my rescue. He laid a hand on Rika's shoulder as though to rein her in. "What are they calling it, these days?"

He definitely knew more than he was letting on. Was his Clairvoyance that potent? I'd assumed that its scope was more limited, like some of the precogs I'd known during my career as a cape, but this wasn't the first time he'd shown a startling amount of insight.

"The call to action?" Mash suggested.

"The inciting incident," Emiya corrected her. "In myth and in literature, it's the event that kicks off the main plot of the story. It can be any number of things, but it's invariably too disruptive for the protagonist to ignore."

"That's the one," said Arash. "Although I'm a bit surprised you're so familiar with it, Emiya. The information packet I got when I was summoned didn't go that far in-depth. You haven't been spending time with Shakespeare, have you?"

"I wonder," Emiya drawled sardonically.

"No!" Rika groaned miserably. "Not you, too, Emiya! There's too much mysteriousness going around, I can't stand it! I'm going to have to make a crazy conspiracy board just to keep track!"

Arash laughed. "Come on, now, Rika. You don't think everyone's just going to spill all their hopes, dreams, and sob stories just because you refuse to take no for an answer, do you?"

His eyes met mine.

"They should!" Rika insisted. "How else am I supposed to unlock everyone's route if no one tells me anything?"

Are you sure you don't want to tell them, Master? Arash asked me across our bond.

The less they know, the safer they'll be, I replied. What they don't know, they can't be forced to tell to someone who decides to pry.

If someone is that desperate to find out, I'm not sure Ritsuka and Rika being ignorant will protect them as well as you think it will, he warned. What happens when someone expects them to know these things and they don't?

A beep from the communicator on my wrist alerted me to a message I had just received, and I used that to break away and smother any reaction that might have been showing on my face. The flashing button marked it as urgent, which meant the message could only be from one person.

Saved by Romani.

I took another large bite out of my sandwich and grabbed my plate as I rose to my feet. "Sorry to run out on you like this, but our Acting Director needs me for something. I'll see you guys later."

Arash predicted me. Before the words could even form on my lips, he gave me a nod and said, "I'll take care of your tray. Whatever it is the Director needs from you is more important."

"Thanks."

With that handled, I turned to leave and made my way towards the door.

"Senpai!" Rika shouted at my back. "You can't leave me hanging like this!"

"Sorry, Rika."

I wasn't. I left anyway, eating as I went, plate in one hand and sandwich in the other.

Marie wouldn't have been happy with me, but it wasn't like Romani and the other staff hadn't been ferrying their own meals and snacks to and from the cafeteria and their work stations, so I wasn't too concerned about polishing off my sandwich as I walked. Who or what might have been handling the janitorial duties, I didn't have the first clue, but there was no way Chaldea could remain as pristine as it usually was without someone or something cleaning fairly regularly.

Knowing Da Vinci, she had probably made some kind of super Roomba or something. For all that she wasn't a Tinker in the same sense as capes had been, she definitely seemed to have the same urge to come up with needlessly complicated solutions to simple problems.

Then again, magi in general seemed like that, too.

It took some finagling, but somehow, I managed to access my communicator as I ate, and the holographic display popped up to show Romani's message.

Taylor, it read, please meet me in Da Vinci's workshop so we can go over the details of the upcoming Rayshift.

I promptly did an about-face and turned the opposite direction, heading for Da Vinci's workshop instead of the Command Room. My mind raced with the possibilities.

It had been about a month since we made it back from what was officially being referred to as the Orléans Singularity, and it felt like it was about time that we readied up for the next one. Romani had never given us a concrete timeline on when we would Rayshift into Rome, but there had been a general sort of feel that we were going to take a month break to decompress and hopefully prepare a little more, and that time was now almost over.

It was simultaneously too soon and long overdue.

But why talk about that in Da Vinci's workshop instead of in the Command Room? Maybe I was overreacting and Da Vinci was just so busy that it was more convenient for us to go to her than the other way around, but her workshop was also one of the most secure rooms in the whole facility, and there were only so many topics that required that level of privacy. The schedule for the next Rayshift wasn't one of them.

The two of them were waiting for me by the time I arrived, and the warmth of my sandwich had settled into a kind of lukewarm soggy feeling in my gut.

Romani smiled at me. "Sorry to interrupt your lunch."

"It's fine," I said. "What's this about, Romani?"

"Right." He nodded. "I said this was about the upcoming Rayshift, didn't I? We've decided on the timing. Three days from now, our response team will Rayshift into the Roman Singularity, tentatively named Septem."

So. It was finally time.

"Three days?"

"I'd like to prepare some more, but time is a bit of a luxury, so we can't afford to put it off much longer," he explained. "There's no telling how long you're going to be in there, but thankfully, the divergence ratio is going to be a larger factor, so you can take your time a little more."

"My estimates put the ratio of flux divergence at around twenty to one, compared to the Orléans Singularity's five to one," Da Vinci added. "Of course, for as generous as that is, it's not without some downsides, yes? We won't be able to reach you as easily as before."

"Having a larger time difference might wind up being a good thing," Romani said tiredly. He sighed. "Because our initial readings seem to suggest that the Singularity encompasses the entirety of the Roman Empire."

My eyes widened. "The entirety?" I repeated. "Doesn't that mean basically the whole European continent?"

Romani grimaced.

"Unfortunately, yes."

I…wanted to sit down.

Crossing the whole of France was the work of a month, zigzagging back and forth between cities, and by the end of it, we'd really only covered a small, narrow portion of the country. Even then, we'd spent the large majority of our time there on the road, getting from place to place, and it was time that was essentially wasted when we were trying to solve the problem as quickly as we could. How much suffering might have been avoided if we had been able to get to each of our destinations at the pace of a modern car?

Now, we were going to have to deal with the entire breadth of the Roman Empire at its height? An empire that had started in Italy and gone on to conquer not only France, but Portugal, Spain, Britain, and basically everything west of Russia?

Fuck, that was the work of decades.

"Please tell me we don't have to cross that on foot," I said tightly.

Da Vinci smiled. "You won't have to cross that on foot!" she told me brightly. "It's certainly a daunting prospect, yes, but half the reason we've delayed as long as we have is so that I might come up with a few solutions to the problem of travel. I've been working on that since before you even returned from Orléans!"

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm down the rush of panic that was still squirming in my gut.

"Okay," I said. "Okay. So we're scheduled to Rayshift in three days and the…Septem Singularity covers the entire Roman Empire, but we also have some solutions to the fact that we'll be hiking all over Europe." Fuck, those better be some really good solutions. "Is there a reason you're telling me about this here instead of in the Command Room?"

The two of them shared a look, and when it came to me, that was never a good sign.

"I wanted to make sure you were still good to go," Romani said solemnly. My brow furrowed, and he went on, "To Rayshift, I mean. You've had about a month to think about it now, and I've seen a few of your sessions with the twins in the simulator. They're getting better every day. You don't have to go with them, if you're worried about —"

"I'm not," I cut across him.

"Listen, I'm not saying you're afraid or anything," he tried, "I'm just worried that you —"

"Don't be," I interrupted him again. "I can handle myself, Romani. I know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Da Vinci challenged. "Rayshifting is a delicate business from the beginning. Do you truly understand all of the things that could go wrong as a result of the slightest mistake?"

'Your existence might unravel' wasn't that hard a concept to grasp, if you asked me. The idea of death — whatever name or esoteric description it went by — didn't frighten me nearly as much as some people might have thought it should, and whatever fear of it I did have wasn't enough to make me cower from my responsibilities.

"Marie told me enough," I replied. "I understand as much as I need to. I'm still going to Rayshift. I'm a Master of Chaldea."

It wasn't a matter of pride, it was just a statement of fact.

"You don't have to prove anything, you know," Romani said. "Whatever battlefield you walked off of two years ago, you're not a failure for losing. You don't have to solve these Singularities to redeem yourself."

I didn't lose, Romani. I wasn't sure I really won, either, but by the metric of whether I accomplished my goal and beat the enemy, I'd clawed my way to victory.

"It's not about proving anything to anyone," I told them both. "I'm doing this because —"

For a moment, I floundered, and I realized suddenly that I'd never really given much thought to why I had decided to join Chaldea in the first place. Because I didn't have anywhere else to go? I'd literally been dropped on their figurative doorstep with nothing to my name and no one except my costume and whatever scraps of my gear were left. I hadn't known whether Dad was alive or dead, and either way, I'd been left here alone with no way of going back. Chaldea was all I had.

That wasn't a good enough reason, and neither of them would think so, either.

Because I wanted to do something meaningful with my life? Fuck, was that loaded, and it felt a little juvenile, too. How do you one-up saving the whole world and everyone in it except by doing it again? Yeah, that wasn't a good reason, either.

It wasn't that both of those reasons weren't very much a part of it, it was just that… They weren't the whole of it. They were factors, and not insignificant factors either, but they weren't the core of it, the core of what had been driving me to keep going, no matter what.

In the end, I think it really came back down to the same thing that had motivated me since Dinah.

"…Because I can't just sit around and do nothing."

Not then, and not now. I'd been on the other end of that. I'd seen what happened and how people suffered because all the people who could do something had done nothing. Being one of those people who let terrible things happen through their inaction was an idea that burned in my gut.

A thought from a lifetime ago came back to me, then. I would never be able to forgive myself if I walked away, knowing there was something I could have done to help. I'd come a long way since those days, done plenty of things I wasn't proud of, but the core behind it hadn't gone anywhere. The Taylor Hebert who had gone to fight Leviathan had become older, wiser, and more cynical, but the common thread that still connected my past to my present was the determination to do what needed to be done, no matter what obstacles were put in front of me.

I wasn't going to shy away now just because things got slightly more dangerous for me in particular. I was in this until the end.

"You don't have to be in the field to contribute," Da Vinci pointed out. "You could take a position as a technician and guide Ritsuka and Rika through the Singularity from the Command Room. Even simply training them to be better Masters is an invaluable role."

"And you think I could just stand by and watch from the safety of the Command Room if something happened to them while I wasn't there to help?"

That wasn't who I was. That hadn't been who I was since the night I went out for the first time and heard Lung ordering his cronies to kill a bunch of kids.

"You won't change your mind?" Romani asked. Da Vinci was giving me a strange look that I couldn't quite parse. Pity? I didn't know what she had to pity me about.

"No."

Romani heaved out a resigned sigh. "This isn't something to be ashamed of, so… If you ever do change your mind, just let me know, and I'll put you back on reserve."

"I won't."

Whatever else happened, I was absolutely sure of that.