"Hestia?"
When Yuto saw the goddess standing at the entrance with such a heavy look on her face, even the way he said her name came out hesitant.
At the sound of his voice, Hestia's expression shifted faintly.
She wanted to put on the same carefree face she always wore.
But she couldn't.
In the end, all she managed was a strained smile, the corners of her mouth forced up.
It wasn't a pleasant thing to see.
Watching her, Yuto slowly went quiet, and a low sigh escaped him.
"I came to pick Sakura up." Hestia walked into the restaurant, her voice lower than usual.
Her mood was plainly poor, and something was clearly weighing on her.
After taking in too much magecraft theory, Sakura had grown desperately sleepy and was now asleep on the counter.
Yuto had wanted to carry her to one of the rooms, but she'd refused.
She only wanted a short nap right there at the counter—that way, the moment Hestia came back, she'd see Sakura the instant she walked in.
Hestia sat down beside her.
She didn't wake her.
She only watched the little girl in silence, her gaze slowly drifting, as if invisible waves were rolling behind her eyes.
She was very quiet just then.
The beauty she had as a goddess finally showed itself in full—but it was a beauty wrapped in sorrow.
"Did something happen?" Yuto sighed softly and looked at her.
The goddess hesitated for a while. Then she shook her head.
A mix of helplessness and irritation crossed Yuto's face.
He reached out to her.
The next moment, Hestia froze. She wanted to shout at him for what he was doing, but just as she opened her mouth she remembered Sakura sleeping beside her.
So she forced the yell back down and glared at him instead, a fire burning in her eyes.
"Whad are you doing?!"
She hissed it under her breath, the words muffled past recognition.
She wanted to speak properly.
Unfortunately, Yuto had half her cheek pinched between his fingers, one side of her mouth stretched open, so there was no way anything came out clearly.
"Trying to knock some sense into you." Yuto said it in an annoyed tone as he twisted her soft cheek.
The whole scene looked exactly like an adult scolding a disobedient child!
The goddess's cheek turned visibly red.
Not from embarrassment, but because it hurt!
Just as she was about to explode, the fingers let go.
She froze on instinct—and before she could recover, a hand settled on top of her head.
Yuto gently rubbed her hair.
"I've told you this before, but I'll say it again." There was a new seriousness in his voice, and the sudden change left Hestia stunned.
"Wh... what...?" Even her words came out haltingly.
Yuto took a breath. "If you ever run into something you can't handle, remember to ask for help."
He said it like someone worn out by a person who refused to learn.
Hestia went completely still.
When his hand lifted from her head, she slowly looked up at him.
The change in her eyes came in an instant—the calm surface stirred, as if something beneath it had suddenly broken loose.
She was clearly close to tears.
But she didn't speak, her lips trembled faintly.
Her breathing came faster, more uneven. Her gaze wavered again and again before finally settling into a complicated stillness.
"Thank you..." She lowered her head and shook it slightly from side to side, her twin tails swaying behind her like two oars rocking beside a small boat on a quiet lake.
Yuto flicked her forehead.
This time the goddess didn't complain.
She looked up at him, and instead of anger, a faint happiness filled her eyes.
"Friends don't need to thank each other."
The corner of Hestia's mouth curved up, but she quickly pushed it back down and put on an angry face instead.
"Show some respect when you're dealing with a goddess!"
Yuto smiled and nodded, and said nothing more.
Even when Hestia carried Sakura off, he only gave them a simple goodbye.
Inside, though, he felt much lighter.
He really was more comfortable with the quick-tempered, foolish Hestia.
That heavy, serious look didn't suit her at all.
As for what exactly was troubling her—he had a guess. He just didn't dare treat it as certain.
Even if there was an eighty-percent chance he was right.
...
Illya arrived sometime around two or three in the morning.
El-Melloi II and Iskandar still hadn't left.
Normally El-Melloi II would have gone home long ago, but tonight was different—he happened to have no classes the next day, a rare day off, so he could stay up late without worry.
Iskandar was delighted about that.
Within the restaurant's small circle of Heroic Spirits, Iskandar was actually the loneliest.
Enkidu had been dragged back to ancient Uruk by the King of Hero.
El-Melloi II had his own life, his students, his work.
Iskandar was the only one that had nowhere to go.
Every time he finished drinking at the restaurant, he returned to the endless loneliness of the Throne of Heroes—a sealed, empty place where even the passing of time was impossible to feel.
No matter how far you walked in any direction, there was nothing but blank emptiness.
The only way Heroic Spirits could ease that boredom was by reading the records: the accounts of summonings from countless parallel worlds.
Servants, drawn from the Heroic Spirits like separate copies, would be called up by magi, and once those Servants vanished, their memories returned and were set down like words in a book.
The original Heroic Spirits could read those records to watch and guess at the outside world.
Quiet thinkers used to solitude might endure that endless isolation.
But for someone as fiery as Iskandar, it was torture—especially now that he'd found the restaurant.
He'd grown all the more unwilling to stay inside the Throne of Heroes.
When Illya walked in, she wasn't alone.
A terrifyingly fierce man followed at her side.
His height, his muscles, his gaze, his sheer presence—even among all the unusual people Yuto had met, this enormous man ranked among the most intimidating.
The strangest thing was his eyes.
They were gray, like a blue sky buried under dark clouds, with no light or focus in them at all.
They called to mind someone who had lost all reason and sunk into a confused haze.
"Good evening, Boss Onii-chan." Illya lifted the hem of her dress and curtsied gracefully.
She wore a long purple gown that made her look especially lovely and mysterious.
"Good evening, Illya." Yuto smiled back.
Illya hurried to the counter, and the fearsome man came after her, staying close like the most loyal of attendants, never leaving her side.
She looked at Yuto with hope and delight. "Boss Onii-chan, hasn't Heracles come tonight?"
Yuto shook his head.
The joy drained from Illya's face in an instant.
The little princess suddenly looked crushed, the corners of her mouth turning down, even the bright light in her eyes going out.
The enormous man behind her seemed to feel the change in her mood.
His breathing grew heavier all at once, and in a moment a suffocating pressure spread out from him—like the instant before a deadly beast begins its hunt.
Everyone in the restaurant reacted.
Tohru went wary at once, and Iskandar and El-Melloi II quietly braced themselves too.
Helpless annoyance crossed Illya's delicate face. "Berserker!"
The moment she shouted, the pressure vanished, and the man called Berserker went calm again.
Yuto's expression didn't change, but his mind was turning.
Berserker.
Unless he was remembering wrong, the very first thing Illya had said to Heracles when she first came to the restaurant had been that same name.
'Berserker. Heracles.'
He studied the man behind Illya again, and noticed something new.
Why did this Berserker look a little like Heracles?
"I'm sorry. That was rude of us." After shouting at Berserker, Illya turned and gave everyone another polite bow.
This child had some of the best manners Yuto had ever seen!
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Yuto smiled calmly.
Illya giggled, then looked around the restaurant again. "Boss Onii-chan, has Heracles really not come at all tonight?"
"Mm." Yuto nodded.
The little girl drooped again.
"He's a great hero, after all. Maybe Heracles has other things he needs to do." Yuto smiled and tried to comfort her.
She seemed remarkably easy to cheer up.
The moment she heard him, resolve and happiness came back to her face. "Mm! That must be it! Heracles is a great hero, so he has lots of people to help. Of course he might not have time to visit the restaurant!"
Illya spoke with complete confidence.
Behind her, a faint spark of awareness seemed to pass through Berserker's clouded gray eyes—but it was gone in the very next instant, so brief that anyone who caught it might have thought it a trick of the mind.
No one in the restaurant saw it.
It had been far too faint, far too quick.
"Mm... I really want to wait here for Heracles, but I probably won't be allowed to stay that long..." At first Illya was only muttering to herself, and her fragile look made her seem like a drifting willow seed that the slightest breeze might carry off.
But then she took a bracelet from her pocket, and a joyful smile lit her face at once.
"Boss Onii-chan, could you do me a favor? If Heracles comes tonight, please tell him I came looking for him. And please give him this too. It's a present!"
It was the kind of decorative bracelet an ordinary girl might wear—a little like a hair tie, but far more delicate, its surface covered in tiny flowers.
An extremely girlish thing.
When Yuto took it, he couldn't help picturing Heracles wearing it.
Heracles was a genuine mountain of muscle.
'Hmm. Maybe the contrast would be unexpectedly adorable!'
"All right. I'll give it to him."
At his agreement, Illya's eyes filled with happiness. "Mm! Then I'll be going now. Goodbye, Boss Onii-chan. Goodbye, everyone."
The little girl left without hesitation.
Her reason for coming had been clear—she'd wanted to find Heracles, and since he wasn't here, she had no reason to stay.
Berserker followed her out in silence.
Yuto was still holding the flower bracelet.
The longer he looked at it, the more he wanted to see Heracles wearing it!
Off to the side, Iskandar and El-Melloi II traded a glance.
They'd already confirmed it.
Illya came from El-Melloi II's world—the familiar Magic Circuits in her body, and the title she used for that man.
Berserker.
That was no ordinary title.
"A Holy Grail War?" Iskandar swirled the drink in his cup.
As a true Heroic Spirit himself, he'd recognized Berserker as a Servant at a glance, which led him straight to the obvious conclusion.
Beside him, El-Melloi II quietly took a sip. "It's possible."
His words said possible, but he'd already confirmed it in his own mind.
Just then, the two men who had once fought in a Holy Grail War felt countless emotions rise in them.
It had begun again.
The Holy Grail War.