Fate Grand Order: Broadcasting Master Love — Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Why Are You Just Watching?

“But this state certainly cannot be called normal.” Dr. Roman released a heavy breath, his hand coming to rest gently on Fujimaru Ritsuka’s shoulder. The doctor leaned in closer, his brow furrowed as he searched the boy’s vacant expression. “Ritsuka, can you hear my voice?”

Receiving nothing but silence, Roman closed his eyes and shook his head. “…No reaction. His gaze is fixed right on us, but there is no consciousness behind it. No response to any stimuli. The eyelids are open, but that is all.”

Mash stood rigidly by the side of the medical bed. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the hem of her skirt, and a glassy sheen gathered in her eyes. “Senpai…” She stared at Ritsuka’s unmoving features. A suffocating weight pressed down on her chest, restricting her breathing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in a shaky breath. “During these past three days, I was with Senpai the entire time… I should have noticed the moment something felt off.” Her voice wavered, thick with guilt. If she had just paid closer attention to those minor abnormalities, perhaps he would not be lying here like an empty shell.

Roman turned to her, offering a gentle pat on her shoulder. “His Magic Circuits are activating intermittently. That gives us a clue to work with. Da Vinci-chan and I will continue running detailed diagnostics.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a wry smile touching his lips. “Fergus seems to know something about this, doesn’t he? But the man simply refuses to answer any of my questions.”

Mash nodded slowly, her brow knitting together. “He did the same to me. He only told me that there is nothing we can do from here…”

Stepping closer to the bed, Mash leaned over the mattress. “Senpai. Please wake up, Senpai!” She reached out, wrapping her hands around his. His skin was unnervingly cold, sending a fresh spike of dread through her veins.

Beneath that motionless exterior, Fujimaru Ritsuka perceived everything. He heard the desperate crack in Mash’s voice. He felt the warmth of her hands pressing against his freezing fingers. He screamed at his muscles to move, to blink, to squeeze her hand back and tell her he was fine. Yet his physical form remained a perfect prison. He was completely paralyzed, forced to watch the scene play out through a narrow, unblinking window, entirely severed from his own motor functions.

The sterile white ceiling of the Chaldea infirmary began to warp. His vision blurred into a smear of gray and black. The sharp, clean scent of medical disinfectant dissolved, replaced instantly by the suffocating stench of damp stone and rotting moss. Ritsuka found himself thrust back into the abyssal depths of Château d’If. He was lying on a slab of freezing rock, a thin layer of brittle straw scratching against his back. The air itself tasted of decay.

Mercedes sat perched on a small wooden stool beside the stone bed, a chipped bowl of water resting in her hands. She watched him with quiet intensity. The moment Ritsuka’s eyes fluttered open, her posture straightened. “How do you feel?”

Ritsuka planted his palms against the stone, attempting to push himself upright. A violent wave of agony flared through his entire nervous system. It felt as though his bones had been shattered and haphazardly glued back together. He ground his teeth together, his triceps trembling as they threatened to give out.

Mercedes shot up from her stool. She pressed a gentle but firm hand against his shoulder, guiding him back down to the straw. “Ah, please, stay exactly as you are. Do not force yourself to sit up.” She brought the rim of the water bowl to his cracked lips, her brow creased with worry.

She let out a quiet breath. “You seemed troubled by a nightmare. You were groaning in your sleep, so I took the liberty of waking you. I am sorry for startling you.” She studied his unfocused gaze, her own eyes reflecting a deep, quiet anxiety.

“I think I saw Chaldea,” Ritsuka murmured. His voice was dry and raspy, scraping against his throat. The phantom sensations of the infirmary still lingered in his mind. He could still see Mash’s tearful face, hear Dr. Roman’s exhausted sigh, and picture the bright, pristine corridors of his true home.

“That is the place where you belong, is it not? Chaldea…” Mercedes tilted her head. “I have never heard of it, but it must be an incredibly important place to you.”

A faint, wistful smile touched the corners of her mouth, softening her pale features. “When you spoke that name just now, a certain light appeared in your eyes.” It was a brilliance she had never witnessed in this lightless prison, a spark akin to distant stars cutting through an endless night.

“I feel quite envious.” She lowered her gaze to her lap, the smile fading into melancholy. “You must know exactly what it is you need to do.” She stared at her empty hands. For a phantom who possessed no memories, who did not even know her own identity, there was no destination to strive toward.

Her shoulders slumped under the weight of her own emptiness. “Compared to you, I do not even know who I am…”

“You are the first hero bold enough to treat a woman like a maid in the depths of Château d’If, Master.”

The Avenger stepped out from the shadows of the corridor, his boots clicking softly against the stone as he entered the cell. A dry, amused smirk played on his lips.

The amusement vanished just as quickly, replaced by a sharp, calculating stare. “However, you must be sleeping your head off. You have been unconscious for nearly an entire day.” He reached out, a gloved finger tracing the rough edge of the stone slab, his tone carrying a heavy, unspoken implication.

Ritsuka forced his heavy eyelids to stay open, meeting the Servant’s gaze. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Did I really sleep that long?” He brought a hand up to massage his throbbing temples, trying to clear the thick fog clouding his brain.

The Avenger’s sharp features softened marginally. The wisps of black mist that perpetually clung to his coat began to thin and dissipate. A complex, almost respectful glint flashed in his golden eyes. “The soul always seeks its own peace. But that rule might not necessarily apply to you. At least, not today.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “How do you feel waking up, my temporary Master?” The Avenger leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto Ritsuka. “Allow me to pose a question to that dull head of yours.”