Oh man, i love how you write, it's really awesome how a character acts like themself even in a (nearly) imposible scenario that for A B C reason can't happen. Anyway, can I request an scenario where the Grand Order has ended, humanity is restored, everyone is back now, and how would Gudako feel about this? The fact that their journey is over? That (maybe or maybe not) none the Servants will remember FGO even if she summons the again? That all of her bonds have been erased? :)
I’m sorry this took so long. This was one of the most interesting requests I had and I’m pissed that I’ve procrastinated on it. It’s also one of the oldest. I really hope you can forgive me, and that this makes up for the wait.
Thoughts and criticisms and feels are requested on this one. It’s kinda sucky but I did edit it a couple times to remove some of the suck.
Heroic New Year
Gudako Reaches the End of the Orders
I wanted to believe it’d be okay.
In the grand scheme of things, a few years spent restoring humanity isn’t that long. My family won’t believe that I saved the world, just like they didn’t believe our cat tore up my homework that one time.
As I disable the summoning platform, I’m overwhelmed by the this strange facility one final time. Embedded on the side of the world’s tallest mountain, trapped in endless winter, Chaldea is untouched by civilization. It’s like we’ve existed in our own block of time and space these years.
I tell myself it’s for the best that I return to a place where time moves forward.
We all knew this day would come. I decided earlier that it’s better to leave without saying goodbye. When the servants return to the Throne of Heroes their experiences here will fade. The bonds we’ve built will disappear. I will be the only one that remembers what happened in Chaldea. I guess the support staff will, too, but none of them grew as close to the servants as I did.
With the assistance of a nameless medic in the remains of the Rayshift chamber I burn Saint Graphs. We say nothing, but perform the task one card at a time to pay our respects and offer gratitude. The images of my servants, my friends, crumple as any picture would.
It’d be stupid to think that heroes with millennia of knowledge would hope to hold onto a few years with a half-rate magus. It’d be selfish of me to keep them here, wouldn’t it? There are other Grails and other wars to fight. The world will always need heroes, won’t it? There are others that need them more than I, right?
The memories I’ve spent years building join the graveyard of mages that were once my peers. I don’t let the staff member see my lips quiver.
A slam on the chamber’s door, and my best friend’s voice shrieking from the other side. I planned on letting them go last. They don’t need to see me cry. But dents embed in the the wall and they break through and I have no choice.
I turn my back to them and wave their Saint Graph over the fire. I don’t want to have this conversation. I don’t want to look at them. They speak to me as if talking me down from a ledge. Convincing me not to jump might be impossible at this point.
As a final favor to them, I offer my beloved servant the last Holy Grail we won. My companion deserves a chance to make a wish of their own before they go. Every servant did, but I believe they do most of all. I do not burn their Saint Graph. They leave me to my tears per my request and the power of my remaining Command Spells.
My last night in Chaldea, spent alone in the common area, is the loneliest night of my life. My heart aches and my stomach is in knots and I am cold all over. I hide in blankets on the couch and stare into the empty spaces where history was summoned, repaired, and celebrated.
It turns out I lied–I thought my last night in Chaldea was the most miserable night of my life, but the real most miserable night of my life is my first night back home.
Nothing in my town has changed. The sun is down and people are walking home with hot beverages in hand to ease the cold. I tighten my grip on the polar uniform I’ve worn countless times to battle and push open the door to my house. My parents are at the table waiting for me as if I never left. The calendar on the refrigerator tells me that I am home in the days before the Rayshift explosion, before I entered Chaldea.
I wonder, is there even a point to telling them where I’ve been? Was I even alive this whole time? Was I ever gone? Was it all a dream? Did I somehow travel back in time, or did Chaldea really exist in its own space outside of the natural flow of time?
I hug my parents and tell them I love them. I carry a bottled water up to my room and curl up in bed. Dad calls up and asks if I’m alright, and I say I had a long day. He asks if I had fun at school today, and if I still have a class trip to the mountains this weekend.
I don’t remember going to school. Nothing before Chaldea matters now. I’m a different person… I mean, I guess if my work is done and Chaldea doesn’t exist anymore there’s no field trip, is there?
My room is unfamiliar. My sheets are not standard issue and my pillow is too soft. The mattress doesn’t support my back properly and I sink into it too easily. My cat looks at me like she knows I’ve been gone a while. She sleeps by my head after kneading my stomach a bunch.
I wonder how I’m supposed to go about life knowing what I know. Does anybody know what I did? Can anyone see what I’ve been through? Did I even change a thing? My peers and I were sent to Chaldea by the Mage’s Association. You’d think that someone would come to find the sole surviving master and thank them for saving the world.
I didn’t expect balloons or streamers or missed birthday presents to be waiting for me, but I thought maybe… I dunno. That there was anything waiting here for me. Now that I’m back it feels like my life before the Grand Order had no purpose.
I cry. I cry until my face is stiff. I keep it under the cover of my bedding. I picture my friends back at the Throne of Heroes preparing to protect history in another time. I picture my beloved in another era, falling for another, saving the world again, forgetting about me entirely. I did the right thing, but everything about my loneliness feels so wrong.
I fall asleep in my uniform. It’s the only assurance that I didn’t imagine Chaldea.
Early in the morning I wake to my bedroom door slamming against the wall and my mom demanding my presence downstairs. I pull the blankets back over my head. She rips them away and tells me one of my friends came over for breakfast. Dad is waiting downstairs with food on the table, right off the stove.
I try to remember my friends from this time period. I think I had friends from school and my part-time job. I wonder what happened to my grades and employment while I was gone. If this is before I left for Chaldea I shouldn’t have anyone visiting me at this hour, should I?
My uniform comes off with difficulty. I thought this jacket was easy to unzip, but with shaking hands and bleary eyes it’s a lot harder. Unclipping the harness is unsteady. Changing into clothes I would’ve worn once feels unnatural. In plainclothes I look so normal but so… not like me anymore.
The stairs are loud under my feet, loud enough to drown the discussion at the table out on the way down. Mom and Dad ask my friend questions. I still don’t know anyone’s names. I hope it’s someone I recognize. Maybe. Did I even have friends before Chaldea? I’m not sure anymore.
But I do recognize them.
My heart threatens to break my ribs.
My last servant. My partner. My friend. Dressed as casually and looking as awkward as I feel, leaning against the counter and engaging in conversation with my parents as though they have a thousand times before.
They set their mug down and ask how long I think it took for them to get here.
I grab the banister at the foot of the stairs and tell them, “A few years, at least.”
I leap through the kitchen and throw myself into their open arms, spilling a little bit of whatever they’re drinking. They welcome me home and ask me not to leave them ever again. And I promise.
