Scene #6822: FateParadox: Exorcising Regrets With Alcohol

Owner	Pose
Eryl Fairfax	The smokey scent of yakitori mingles with the odour of cheap booze in this back alley of Kyoto. Wading through the cigarette butts on the path leads you to a small bard with faded and ragged banners offering a measure or privacy. An old man tends to a grill and tap for two people. One, a middle aged man with black hair and an array of weapons at his side. The other, an older more severe looking man in a old-fashioned military coat. His hear is black, but some grey is creeping in. Shogo Arisu and Misha Babikov are enjoying drinks and chicken skewers as they await their guest.
Reiji Arisu	What is the nature of this multiversal grail war? In so many previous instances, the Grail-cup has been a corrupt, perverse lie. An angler's lantern, luring the bold, brave and ambitious to an ignoble end, regardless of the nature of their ultimate intent. So why, then, did Shogo Arisu return when called upon? Why was a man whose soul was supposed to be standing eternal vigil over a merciless demoness walking among the living once more? The questions have plagued Reiji for months, now. Not every waking hour has been consumed with them, perhaps, but in the brief and multitudinous moments between work and home, the periods that aught to have been filled with quiet contemplation and the rest of an idle mind, he has instead been wracked with anxiety and inquiry. It's made a decent night's sleep an elusive thing, at the very least. When he received a mysterious invitation beckoning him to what is probably number four on the list of Japan's seediest dive bars, his first impulse was to throw it out. But then, who would know to invite him to a place as specific as that? It was at least worth checking out. Reiji Arisu ducks under the restaurant's tobacco-stained Noren and into a familiar haze of grey-blue cigarette smoke. His eyes widen only slightly at the men seated at the bar, more out of simple recognition and satisfaction at a hunch proven right than any sense of surprise. "I'll take a Sapporo," he says to the man behind the bar. This man is probably privy to more scandals and secrets and than a dozen spies might uncover in the course of their careers, a reward for a lifetime of confidence well-kept. Reiji settles into the barstool, adjacent to the black-haired man. Except for their age, they could be twins. Both carrying far too many weapons for any reasonable expectation of conflict-- but then, the war they find themselves embroiled in is anything but reasonable. Reiji glances over at his father and his father's master, "I see the two of you have fulfilled your Wish."
Eryl Fairfax	Misha snorts at Reiji's choice of drink, but Shogo chuckles. "On my tab. And top me up," he adds, turning his head to regard his son. "I'm glad you drink at least. You seemed like an entire tree in the mud," he says, holding up his glass for the bartender to fill before pouring one for Reiji. "How are you son? Not just in general I mean. Tell me about your life," Shogo says, drawing a laugh from Misha. "That's what you go with? We Russians are a heartless lot, but even I could be smoother than that." Shogo turns his head to offer his old partner a Look. Reiji can't see it, but it seems enough to silence the Master and let Reiji speak.
Reiji Arisu	"I'm not on the job all the time," Reiji replies, seeming only mildly offended that even his father thinks he's a stodgy old grandpa of a man. "I've inherited most of your bad habits. Drinking, smoking, indulging Xiaomu a bit more than I aught to." He shakes his head before clinking his glass against his father's. Shogo asks him about his life. Even Misha thinks that it's kind of a stiff way of going about it; like, come on dad. If you wanted to ask if Reiji had found a lady already, there's a better way to go about it. But Reiji is mid-draw on his frothy brew when the Russian speaks, so he's in no position to comment. Instead, he just fixes his father with a look and a shrug, and then says: "You have grandkids, you know?" He lets it sink in for /just/ long enough for his father to assume the most entertaining before: "Adopted. A couple of child-goddesses of a reborn world that are still growing into their natures. Xiaomu and I are taking care of them. I tell them stories about you sometimes." He doesn't say if they're good ones or not. Reiji is kind of a jerk like that. "We're thinking of calling it quits on the whole masquerade thing, too. There's no real point anymore, what with everything going on, so I've been busy with that." Reiji shrugs, but his father didn't ask about work. So. "Other than that, I don't really know what to say. Ever since we ended up falling into the Multiverse, it seems like life's been a blur. When one world isn't in danger of collapse, another is being threatened by supernatural horrors or sprawling crime syndicates. Seems like I spend more time putting out fires than anything else." "I wish you were still around," he admits then, after a long, tired pause. "Alive-you, I mean. You not tied to this... thing you're caught up in."
Eryl Fairfax	Misha snorts again at the mention of Xiaomu and drains his glass. Shogo meanwhile just chuckles. "Well, don't take after me too much. It'll be the death of you." Stiff opening, morbid jokes... what a guy. The mention of 'grandkids' makes both older men choke, Shogo on his drink and Misha on a piece of chicken. Amidst their coughing, Reiji delivers the punchline and gets a mad cackle from the Russian. "Oh you little bastard, well done!" Shogo coughs a couple more times as quietly as possible, just paying heed to the things Reiji is telling him. "I know son. I wish that too. I wish a lot of things." He swivels on his chair and looks at his son dead on. "But you understand why I had to do it, right? As long as you do, I can bear any amount of regrets."
Reiji Arisu	There's no satisfaction quite like a punchline delivered well. Reiji quietly sips at his drink as he waits for the geezers to catch their breaths, "I learned from the best in the business." Apparently not his father, given Shogo's... unique set of social skills. But the moment of levity doesn't last. His father- or his father's ghost, maybe- looks him dead in the eye. To his credit, Reiji doesn't look away until Shogo finishes. He breathes a long sigh, suddenly finding the dying fizz on the surface of his drink a much more interesting sight. Just when it seems like his silence is going to be his only answer, he speaks. "...I didn't. Not for a long, long time," Reiji says, staring at his reflection rippling in the amber mirror. "For years, I was... angry. With myself, for forcing you into that position. With Xiaomu, for not stopping you. With you, for leaving me alone. I told myself that it was just a matter of course, that our job just... did that to people. Eventually, it'd ask that same sacrifice of me, too. I carried that hate and that despair with me for so long, but--" He leans back, letting the tension melt away from his features. "--But then I ended up a dad, myself. Kind of. They're not mine, I know that, it's not quite the same. But I know I'd do whatever I had to if it meant keeping them safe, damn the consequences." "So I guess--" He looks his father in the eye, giving him a mild smile. "I think I understand. Maybe not... not completely. But I know the real reason you did what you did. Or, I think I do, anyway." "It'd be nice if you could meet them. They're... Well," Reiji chuckles. "They're a handful, but I love them."
Eryl Fairfax	"You had the right to be angry," Shogo says. "And even if you are still angry, I hope you understand. To leave behind a better world for your child, to keep them safe... that's the duty of a parent." He nibbles on some chicken and mulls on what else to say. "But, if one day, the world does ask you for that sacrifice? I know you'll meet the challenge. Maybe you'll even surpass me and come back from it alive." "Don't meet them," Misha interjects. "Better they don't meet their granddad at all than meet him once then never again." Shogo exhales from his nose and nods lightly. "Much as I would like to, he's right. Keep me as a story to tell son."
Reiji Arisu	"...Maybe. Maybe someday." The thought terrifies him in a deep and fundamental way. Not just about losing his life; everything that lives fears death on some level. But to leave all that he loves behind in the effort to make a better world-- that is the kind of thing that could strike terror into the heart of even the greatest of heroes. "I hope I never have to find out. But if I do... Then I hope you're right." Then, though, Misha says something that confirms another of Reiji's fears. His father doesn't plan to live in this world for much longer. "...I thought there was something off about this," Reiji says, giving Misha a meaningful look. "It had to happen eventually, I guess. You're planning on doing something that'll probably get the both of you killed." He sighs, knocking back what's left of his beer, only to gesture to ask for another. "I hope suicidal strategies aren't another bad habit I picked up from you." The younger Arisu turns and reaches for his personal arsenal and pulls a blade from the set... And presents it to his father. "Sorin. I haven't so much as touched it since you died, except to keep it fixed up. I didn't think it was right for me to, and she didn't seem keen on me using her either. I figure... that maybe, it might keep you safe this time." It probably won't. His father probably already /has/ a copy of the very same sword. But... Reiji has to, and emotions are rarely the most logical things in the world. "...Before you go walking off to die again, I think I should know. If there's anything you can tell me about this... war, thing. It feels like I'm waiting for another shoe to drop, and I've got this awful feeling that it's more of a guillotine than a stiletto." "And--" His expression softens a bit. They shouldn't stick to business. Not here, not now. "There's something else. I'm thinking of... asking Xiaomu something important, sometime soon. I wanted to know if you were okay with that. And I want to know if there's anything more you want to leave me with. This might be the last chance we get to talk, and it's not like the beer is in any short supply."
Eryl Fairfax	"I am right. You're my son after all," Shogo says with confidence. Real confidence, not drunken confidence. Misha smirks into his glass. "Maybe. What's a war without a little risk?" Sorin is offered up, and Misha busts out laughing. "Oh you little sap, are you serious?! Your daddy taught you the family style with the assumption you would have all five, and you just /don't use it?!/ Why would he teach it to you if he didn't intend for you to have it?!" Shogo smiles, and presses the blade back towards Reiji, holding up his arsenal to reveal the copy of it he came with. "Keep it son. And use it as I taught you. For once, Misha is right. I wanted you to have it." Reiji asks if there's anything he can be told. Shogo sighs, while Misha looks into his glass. "Yeah, I can tell you something. I didn't summon your dad. I mean, not deliberately. There was no ritual, no setup, no anything. I was just getting wasted and thinking on the good times and suddenly he was there. I bet you any other Master went through the same thing. No one wants to admit it because coming into a war on accident make you look like an easy target." He points to Reiji. "I'd put money on it; someone is behind the scenes engineering this whole thing." Something important to say to Xiaomu... the two wait this time, to see if it's a joke. But when the punchline doesn't drop, Misha rolls his eyes and goes back to his drink. "Live without regrets son. If every decision you make is to advance that goal, I support it." He smiles again, and thinks for a long moment. Anything else to say?... "I'm proud of you, Reiji. Your mother would be too."
Reiji Arisu	He's proud of him. That alone is enough to dispel whatever embarassment Reiji might feel about being laughed at by a Russian sniper twice his age. (Such things are not to be trifled with; Russians are scary enough, but an old Russian with a gun is another thing entirely.) Reiji fixes the frigid blade with a long, meaningful stare, then silently sets it back into place along with its many siblings. "...Yeah. I'll use it well, dad. I guess it's not really Gogyo Battou if I'm only using four of the weapons, isn't it?" But then, a revelation. A very worrying revelation. "Then... I guess I was wrong to be concerned about the two of you just wanting a drink out of all this," Reiji admits. "Sorry, I let my suspicions get the better of me." It's not like he knew Misha particularly well-- not well enough to assuage his innately worriful nature at least. "If that damn Holy Grail was actually a cup it'd be a lot less of a threat, but anything that can pull an extinguished god into the world at the prime of his life, nevermind steal a soul away from the Demon Gate Seal is far too powerful to not be a concern." Misha concludes, and Reiji nods in agreement, "I'm with you on that. Someone's got ulterior motives here. Making it so that only servants could kill one another means that our hands would be tied from taking the simple solution, and the nature of several of the competitors are such that there would be people within the multiverse who are motivated either to see them succeed, or to see them fail, and in either case the war would be moved to end in a specific way. Ultimately, one Servant would remain." "If I were to hazard a guess," Reiji murmurs, his brow furrowed in that contemplative way that it gets when he has an important thought in his head. "Someone wants to stir the multiversal pot by forcing powerful individuals into conflict-by-proxy, while simultaneously securing a portion of power from one of the biggest magical rituals I've ever witnessed. If something's coming, it's going to be bad. I somehow doubt any of you are going to get your wishes by the end of this." He wonders if Priscilla already knows, if Gwyn simply appeared rather than being summoned, then... Hmn. But, there are less serious matters to talk about, and Reiji would honestly prefer not to dwell on anything so dire. So instead he turns to reflect on his father's pride, and gives the older man a genuine, glowing grin. "Thanks, dad. It means a lot to hear you say that. Whatever happens... Whatever happens, I'm glad that this war at least let me meet you again. I'll do my best to take care of things, no matter how this goes." He turns away to receive another beer, but spends a conspicuous moment rubbing at his far eye as he does, "I'm proud to be your son. Now let's get some more drinks, I need at least three beers in me before I can deal with the rest of these damn emotions properly."