[Kenji Sato (MC) POV]
I woke up the next morning with a massive yawn, stretching my arms over my head. I reached over to my side, expecting to feel the warm, fluffy cloud of purple fur, but my hand hit empty bedsheets. Dorumon was gone.
Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I dragged myself out of bed and opened the bedroom door. I walked down the hall and peeked into the living room.
My heart instantly melted a little. Sitting on the couch was Sakura, looking much healthier than yesterday, with Dorumon curled up comfortably in her lap. She was gently petting his head, a small, genuine smile on her face while the Digimon happily leaned into her touch.
Before I could even step into the room, a hand clamped down firmly on my shoulder.
I jumped, spinning around to find Arthur standing right next to me. His face was completely deadpan, staring unblinkingly at the purple dragon on the couch.
"Kenji," Arthur whispered with dead-serious intensity. "Where did you get that thing?"
"I summoned it," I replied, blinking in surprise at how intense he was being.
Arthur's grip on my shoulder tightened slightly, his emerald eyes practically glowing with want. "Can I have one?"
"Probably not," I said.
The legendary King of Knights, the heroic savior of Britain, visibly pouted. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
I shook my head, deciding to just move on. "Anyway... where did Kariya and Morgan go?"
"They left when you fell asleep," Arthur sighed, mourning his lack of a fluffy mascot. "But they are going to be here soon for breakfast to check on Sakura."
"Got it. And where is Jeanne?"
Arthur pointed a thumb down the hallway. "Currently sulking in the hall closet. She tried to pet Dorumon earlier, but he ignored her to go sit with Sakura."
"Heh." A low chuckle escaped my lips. I could easily picture the Holy Maiden of Orleans sitting in the dark next to the winter coats, completely devastated by the rejection of a digital dragon.
"Well," I said, rolling my sleeves up and heading toward the kitchen. "I guess I better start preparing breakfast for everyone."
Behind me, I heard a sharp gasp. I glanced back to see Arthur clutching his chest, a look of profound, overwhelming emotion on his face. He looked like he was about to cry tears of pure joy. His "younger brother" was going to cook a meal for him.
The kitchen was surprisingly spacious, with a large central island, a six-burner gas stove, and a double-door refrigerator that Kariya had thankfully stocked before everything went sideways. Fresh vegetables, eggs, fish, rice, condiments—everything I needed was here.
I grabbed an apron and tied it around my waist. "Alright." I muttered, cracking my knuckles.
First, the foundation: rice. I scooped out several cups of premium short-grain rice—enough to feed two Servants, a recovering child, a Digimon, and myself—and began rinsing it in the sink. The water ran cloudy at first, then clearer and clearer as I worked the grains between my fingers. Once satisfied, I loaded the rice cooker, added the exact right amount of water, and set it to work.
While the rice steamed, I prepped the miso soup. Dashi stock went into a pot first, kombu and bonito flakes steeping until the broth turned rich and golden-brown. I strained it carefully, then added silken tofu cut into perfect little cubes, thinly sliced green onions, and wakame seaweed that bloomed beautifully in the hot liquid. Just before serving, I would swirl in the miso paste—never boiling it, because that would kill the delicate flavor.
Next, the tamagoyaki. I cracked six eggs into a bowl, whisked them with sugar, soy sauce, and mirin, then heated my rectangular pan. Layer by careful layer, I poured the egg mixture, rolled it, oiled the pan, and repeated. The rolled omelet grew thicker and more golden with each pass, the sweet-savory aroma filling the kitchen like a warm hug.
On another burner, salmon fillets sizzled in a light coating of oil, their silver skins crackling and crisping. I seasoned them simply with salt, letting the natural flavor do the heavy lifting.
But I wasn't done. Arthur was British, Jeanne was French. They might appreciate something familiar alongside the Japanese fare. I grabbed potatoes, onions, and sausages, dicing everything into bite-sized pieces and throwing them into a cast-iron skillet. The hash sizzled aggressively, the edges of the potatoes caramelizing to a perfect golden-brown as I seasoned the mix with garlic, rosemary, and a crack of black pepper.
I was in the zone. My knife flashed, my pans moved, my timing was immaculate. The kitchen heat rose around me, but I barely noticed.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure standing in the doorway. Arthur had appeared at some point, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He didn't say a word. He just watched me cook with an expression of complete, overwhelming reverence. His emerald eyes were practically misty.
I ignored the weeping king and kept working.
For Sakura, I put together a small fruit salad—ripe strawberries, sweet melon, and crisp apple slices drizzled with honey. Her body had been through hell. Gentle, nourishing food would be best. For Dorumon, I set aside a simple platter of unseasoned grilled meat and fish. I had no idea what Digimon digestive systems were like, but plain protein seemed like a safe bet.
The kitchen island was now completely covered in plates and bowls. Miso soup steamed gently in ceramic bowls. Tamagoyaki sat sliced into perfect golden rectangles. Grilled salmon glistened with rendered fat. The potato hash was a mountain of crispy, herby goodness. Rice waited in the cooker, fluffy and fragrant. Fruit salad sparkled with honey drizzle. And Dorumon's special plate was ready to go.
I wiped my hands on a towel and called out, "Breakfast is ready!"
Arthur was already seated before the echo faded, his posture regal but his eyes wide with anticipation. A moment later, the closet door down the hall creaked open. Jeanne emerged quietly, smoothing down her skirt and pretending very hard that she hadn't spent the last half hour sulking in the dark.
Then came the soft patter of footsteps—both small and clawed. Sakura entered the kitchen with Dorumon walking right beside her. The little Digimon's claws clicked gently on the floor, his fluffy purple tail wagging in a slow, content rhythm. Sakura walked slowly, her hand resting lightly on Dorumon's back for comfort rather than support. Her shoulders were still slightly hunched, her expression cautious.
I stepped out from behind the kitchen island and approached them slowly. I crouched down to Sakura's level, keeping a respectful distance and offering the warmest smile I could manage.
"Hey, Sakura. I'm Kenji Sato. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself properly last night—everything happened so fast after the rescue, and I should have made time to check on you. That was my fault."
Sakura looked at me with those big, tired eyes. She didn't speak right away. Dorumon pressed his snout gently against her hand, a quiet little nudge of encouragement.
Finally, her lips parted. Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"...Thank you."
Two words. That was all she gave. But the faint, fragile softness in her expression told me she'd heard me, and maybe even believed me a little.
I nodded and straightened up. "Come on, both of you. I made plenty. Dorumon, I've got a special plate just for you."
Dorumon's ears shot up. "For me? Really?"
"Really."
The Digimon let out a happy bark and trotted ahead, his nose following the scent of grilled meat. Sakura followed quietly and took a seat at the table. I placed Dorumon's plate on the floor beside her chair—easier for him to reach—and he immediately dove in with delighted chomping sounds.
Arthur was already reaching for the tamagoyaki. Jeanne carefully lifted her bowl of miso soup, murmuring a soft word of thanks. I settled into my own seat at the end of the table, grabbing rice and salmon as the morning light streamed through the window.
The doorbell chimed, a bright, cheerful sound that cut through the quiet morning atmosphere. I glanced up from my bowl of rice, chopsticks hovering mid-air.
"Ahh, that's them," I said, pushing my chair back. Kariya and Morgan must have finished their supply run. About time—their food was getting cold.
I crossed the living room, Dorumon's happy chewing sounds fading behind me, and reached for the front door. I pulled it open with a casual greeting already forming on my lips.
The sight that greeted me made the words die in my throat.
Kariya stood on the doorstep, his face pale and twisted with a deep, genuine apology. He looked like a man who had been forced to deliver terrible news to a friend. Beside him, Morgan le Fay stood with her arms crossed and an utterly unreadable expression. Her cold, beautiful features betrayed nothing.
"Kenji," Kariya said, his voice heavy with regret. "I'm so sorry for what's about to happen."
I blinked. "What do you mea—"
And then I looked past them.
Three figures stood behind Morgan, their presence crashing over me like a tidal wave.
The first was tall and impossibly broad, encased in massive, bulky silver armor—an enormous breastplate, heavy pauldrons, thick gauntlets, and greaves that seemed designed to crush anything beneath them. Long blonde hair spilled down her back, and when she met my gaze, I caught the flash of mismatched eyes.
Barghest.
The second was pale and slender, wearing a red corset-style top with a layered skirt that swayed as she shifted her weight. Deep red stockings with black lace-up details ran up her legs, and her platform boots had sharp, claw-like ornaments that looked less like fashion and more like weapons. Long red hair framed a face so pale she looked vampiric.
Baobhan Sith.
The third was tiny and sleek, clad in a metallic blue armored dress accented with cyan and silver. Glowing teal runes traced geometric patterns across the surface, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. An eye mask covered her eyes, hiding them completely, and long white hair with a subtle gradient cascaded behind her.
Melusine.
I blinked once. Twice.
"...You brought your entire entourage," I said flatly.
Morgan's lips curved into a cool, satisfied smile. "Naturally. If we are to form a proper alliance, it would be remiss of me not to introduce my retainers."
She stepped aside, gesturing toward Baobhan Sith first.
"This is Baobhan Sith. Tam Lin Tristan."
Baobhan Sith gave a lazy wave. "Hello."
Morgan moved on to Melusine.
"This is Melusine. Tam Lin Lancelot."
Melusine tilted her head slightly. "Greetings."
Finally, Morgan gestured to Barghest.
"And Barghest. Tam Lin Gawain."
Barghest inclined her head. "A pleasure."
I stood there for a moment. "Come in," I said, stepping aside.
The Fairy Knights filed past me into the mansion.
Inside the living room, Arthur appeared in the hallway. He took one look at the three armored figures and immediately deflated.
"I see they are not my knights," Arthur said flatly.
"I gathered that, Big Bro."
Arthur let out a heavy sigh. Then he turned to me with pleading green eyes. "Kenji, I require more food. These imposters have emotionally wounded me. I need comfort."
I blinked. "Arthur, there's already a full spread—"
"Imposters, Kenji!" Arthur gestured wildly at the Fairy Knights. "I need bacon!"
His stomach growled loudly.
I sighed. "Fine. More food."
As the others filed into the living room, I reached out and grabbed Kariya's shoulder, pulling him aside.
"Quick question," I said quietly. "How did she summon them?"
Kariya rubbed the back of his neck. "After you went to bed, Morgan insisted we return to the Matou estate. She used one of her Noble Phantasms to pull them here permanently. But there are limitations."
"What kind?"
"Their stats are weaker than average Servants," Kariya said. "They drain Morgan constantly just to stay manifested. And if Morgan dies, they vanish."
I nodded. Good to know.
Kariya shifted, wincing slightly. I could see the tiredness in his eyes, the sweat on his brow, the dark veins peeking from under his collar.
"Hey, Kariya," I said. "Want me to cure you?"
Kariya stared at me. "You... you can?"
"I pulled Angra Mainyu out of Sakura. I can handle some worms."
Kariya searched my face. When he found no doubt, his shoulders slumped in relief.
"...Okay," he said. "Please."
"Right now," I said. "Let's do it before breakfast gets cold."
We stepped outside. I had Kariya sit on the porch steps while I crouched in front of him, pressing my palm against his chest.
"Try to stay still."
I focused my will, feeling Curse Absorption stir to life. The crest worms squirmed under my touch. I pulled.
Kariya gasped, black veins pulsing beneath his skin. The worms tore free, dissolving into black mist that I absorbed. It took less than a minute.
When I released him, Kariya collapsed forward, gasping. His skin regained color. The dark veins vanished. His hair, streaked with white, darkened back to brown.
He looked ten years younger.
"...It's gone," he whispered. "Kenji, I—"
"No problem," I said, waving it off.
A sudden cough wracked my chest. I turned away, covering my mouth. When I pulled my hand back, my palm was stained with black blood.
Kariya's eyes went wide. "Kenji—!"
"I'm fine," I said quickly. I actually meant it. I felt fine.
I stood up. "Let's head back inside."
When we stepped back in, Arthur appeared in the hallway.
"Kenji!" He grabbed my shoulders. "The food is getting cold! The imposters are eating my bacon! I need more!"
"Right," I said, gently extracting myself. "I'm on it."
I made my way to the kitchen, rolling my sleeves up.
Behind me, Kariya sat down at the table, looking like a man released from a lifelong sentence.
I tied the apron strings and reached for the eggs.
The kitchen was already a disaster zone, but I had plenty left. I grabbed more eggs, more bacon, more sausages, and started working.
I cracked eggs, whisked them, poured them into the hot pan. Bacon hissed on the other burner. The smell filled the kitchen.
I finished the eggs, piled them onto a platter, added the crispy bacon, and carried everything out.
The scene that greeted me was... chaotic.
Arthur had already taken his seat. Baobhan Sith was lounging, her boots propped up. Barghest sat upright. Melusine was perfectly still. Jeanne had positioned herself at the head of the table—my seat.
And Morgan was standing beside the table, her cold blue eyes fixed on Jeanne.
"The eggs are perfect," Morgan stated, her voice carrying genuine warmth. "Kenji, you truly are a wonderful chef. My compliments to my dear little brother."
I blinked in surprise. She was actually praising me?
Jeanne's eye twitched. "Of course they're perfect. My Master made them."
"I wasn't speaking to you," Morgan said coolly. "I was speaking to my younger brother."
"Your younger brother? He's my Master."
"He's Arthur's younger brother. Which makes him MY younger brother by extension."
The two of them stepped closer, chest to chest, eyes locked in a battle of wills. Both women were unconsciously puffing their chests out further with each word.
"You're not even related to him!" Jeanne shot back.
"Neither are you!"
"I'm his Servant! I have a binding contract!"
"I'm his sister-in-law! That's legally binding!"
Jeanne's face went red. "That's not how it works!"
"It is in Britain!"
The argument escalated. Their chests were practically pressing against each other now, both refusing to back down. It was a war of pride, and of something else entirely.
I stood there, platter in hand, watching the absurdity unfold. Morgan had the height advantage, but Jeanne had the... presence advantage. Her outfit from yesterday, the ripped black jeans and white tank top, hugged her figure in a way that made her confidence undeniable.
Jeanne sensed me watching. Her eyes flickered toward me for just a split second.
Then she went all out.
She leaned forward, pressing her chest firmly against Morgan's. The Fairy Queen's eyes widened in surprise as Jeanne put her full weight into it.
With one final push, Jeanne knocked Morgan back a full step.
Morgan stumbled, her face flushing with humiliation.
"...Fine," Morgan muttered. "You win this round."
Jeanne gave triumphant smile.
"As usual...Jeanne D'Arc won."
——
I quietly cleared the plates, letting the comfortable post-breakfast buzz settle over the room. Arthur was leaning back in his chair, patting his stomach with the contented look of a man who had just conquered a buffet. Baobhan Sith was inspecting her nails. Barghest sat in composed silence. Dorumon was still happily crunching scraps on the floor.
Then Melusine moved.
Her face turned slowly, deliberately, toward Dorumon. She tilted her head, studying the tiny purple Digimon with an intensity that made the air feel heavier.
"...You," she said, her soft voice cutting through the quiet. "You are a dragon."
Dorumon looked up, a piece of bacon still hanging from his mouth. He blinked. "...Yeah? I'm Dorumon! A dragon!"
Melusine rose from her seat and glided toward him, her movements silent and elegant. Dorumon's ears flattened slightly. He took a half-step back, suddenly uncertain as the armored girl loomed over him.
She extended a gauntleted hand toward him. "Do you want to be friends?"
Dorumon stared at the offered hand like it might bite him. His eyes darted to me, clearly seeking guidance.
"Kenji...?" His voice was small.
I gave him a gentle nod, reaching down to ruffle the fur between his ears. "It's okay, buddy. She seems nice."
Dorumon looked back at Melusine, then at her hand. Slowly, his tail gave a tentative wag. He reached up and placed his tiny paw against her gauntlet.
"...Friend?" he asked.
Melusine's visor softened. "Friend."
Dorumon's face lit up like the sun. "FRIEND! KENJI! I got a new friend!"
I laughed and petted him again. "That's good, buddy. I'm proud of you."
The warmth of the moment lingered as I finished clearing the table. But as I moved, my eyes drifted to Barghest.
She was still seated at the far end, watching Melusine and Dorumon with something unreadable in her gaze. A softness, yes. But also a sadness—like she was looking at something she couldn't allow herself to have.
I knew her curse.
She had eaten the man she loved Adonis...and others R.I.P randoms.
She had lived with that grief ever since.
But I had Curse Absorption. I had pulled curses out of Sakura, out of Kariya, out of Angra Mainyu itself. When I'd cured Kariya, my skill had climbed another five levels.
What would it do if I absorbed a curse like Barghest's?
I wet my lips.
"Barghest," I said, setting down the last plate. "Can I speak with you? Alone?"
Barghest's head lifted, surprise flickering across her face. "Me?"
"Yes."
Morgan, seated like a queen at the head of the table, arched a perfect eyebrow. "You may have whatever audience you desire with my knight, Kenji. I trust you will not damage her."
I nodded and turned, leading Barghest out of the dining room and down the hall to my room before entering.
She stood in the center, waiting.
"Barghest," I said softly. "What if I told you I could remove your curse?"
She went still.
"...You cannot," she said slowly. "This curse is not a parasite. It is not a foreign thing that can be cut away. It is in my blood. It is woven into the very foundation of my clan. It is a part of me."
"But I can."
She blinked. "You do not understand. It has been with me since—"
"I can."
"You cannot simply—"
"I will."
Her breath caught. She stared at me, searching my face for doubt, for lies. She found none.
"You will not harm anyone else."
"Never."
Barghest's jaw tightened. Her eyes flickered with something fragile—hope, fear, longing.
"...If you truly believe you can," she whispered, "then I will trust you."
I stepped forward and reached up, cupping her face gently in both hands.
Barghest stiffened.
"Just relax," I murmured.
Then I pulled her down and kissed her.
mwah
Her lips were warm, and for a moment, she was frozen. But I focused past the contact and reached for the curse coiled deep in her blood.
It was vast. Old. Hungry. It surged and writhed, recognizing me as a threat.
I pulled.
At the same time, I felt something change.
My left hand—still gently cupping her cheek—was suddenly pinned. Her fingers slipped through mine, interlacing, holding my palm flush against her skin.
And my right hand, tangled in her hair, was also captured. Her other hand grabbed it, weaving her fingers with mine, trapping me.
I tried to break the kiss. To pull back and refocus on the curse.
I couldn't.
Barghest let out a low sound—something between a breath and a growl—and pressed forward. The kiss deepened, suddenly no longer gentle. Her tongue slid across my bottom lip, then pushed inside.
slk... mmnm...
She kissed like she was starving. Her hands—still holding mine—guided me backward, step by step. I could feel the edge of my bed pressing against the back of my knees.
I couldn't free my mouth.
Not that I was complaining. Barghest was easily top five of my favorite female Servants. Maybe third. Maybe second, if I was being honest with myself.
And I didn't 'NEED' to kiss her... I just wanted to... Yeah, I wanted my first kiss to be a muscular pampering six foot plus women.
She lowered me onto the mattress, her weight settling over me, her lips never leaving mine. Her tongue swept deep, commanding.
And as the curse continued to flow into me, I realized:
She's... moving to fast!!!
——
[Arthur Pendragon POV]
I leaned back in my chair, patting my stomach with satisfaction. The meal my little brother had prepared was absolutely divine. I had eaten well.
All was right with the world.
I glanced across the table at Jeanne. She was still seated at the head, her eyes fixed on the hallway where Kenji had disappeared with Barghest. Her fingers drummed against the table. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Jeanne," I said warmly. "You seem tense. Would you care to converse while we wait for Kenji's return?"
She didn't even look at me.
"No."
I blinked. "...No?"
"I am currently occupied with the task of waiting for my Master," she said flatly. "I do not have time for idle chatter."
I opened my mouth to respond, but she cut me off.
"Additionally, your presence is not required. Please refrain from speaking to me until Kenji returns."
I felt my shoulders slump. "That seems rather harsh—"
"I said no."
I sighed, turning away. The holy maiden was clearly in a mood. I decided it was best not to press further.
Morgan sat at the far end of the table, her cold eyes watching Jeanne with barely concealed amusement. She caught my gaze and arched a perfect eyebrow.
"Having trouble with the little Saint?" she asked, her voice carrying a smug edge.
"She is... determined," I said diplomatically. "I suppose I shall simply wait for Kenji."
Morgan's eyes softened slightly at the mention of his name. "Our little brother is quite popular, isn't he?"
I blinked. "Our?"
"Did you not hear me?" Morgan's tone sharpened. "He is Arthur's brother. Arthur is my brother. Therefore, he is also my brother. It is simple logic."
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. She was technically correct, but the way she said it made me feel... oddly territorial.
"I suppose," I said slowly, "that is true."
Morgan nodded with satisfaction. "Good. Now, what do you plan to do with the little girl?"
I glanced across the room. Sakura was still on the couch, Dorumon now curled in her lap with Melusine seated beside them. The fairy dragon was staring at Dorumon with an intensity that would have been unsettling if she wasn't clearly fascinated.
"Kenji will decide," I said simply. "She is his to protect now."
Morgan tilted her head. "You would entrust such a responsibility to him? He seems still young, no?"
"He has already proven himself capable," I replied. "He saved her from the mud. He purged the corruption. He is her savior. The decision must be his."
Morgan was silent for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, she coughed—a small, delicate sound into her gloved hand.
"...Our brother," she corrected softly.
I felt my lips twitch. A rare, warm feeling spread through my chest. I chuckled.
"Yes," I agreed. "Our brother."
Baobhan Sith, who had been lounging nearby, suddenly sat up straighter. Her cold grey eyes flicked between us.
"Wait," she said slowly. "If Arthur is my mother's brother... and Kenji is Arthur's brother... then I have two uncles?"
Morgan turned to her daughter with a proud smile. "Yes, my dear. You have two uncles who look remarkably similar."
Baobhan Sith stared at me, then at the hallway where Kenji had disappeared.
"...They look exactly the same."
"Arthur has green eyes," Morgan pointed out. "Kenji has golden eyes. They are slightly different."
"They look the same," Baobhan Sith repeated flatly. "I have two uncles who are basically clones of each other. This is... strange."
I decided to properly introduce myself. I walked over to her and placed my hands on her shoulders, beaming down at her.
"Baobhan Sith!" I declared. "I am Arthur Pendragon! The King of Knights! Your new uncle!"
She stared at me like I had grown a second head. "...I know who you are. Mother introduced us earlier."
"Yes, but now I know you are my niece!" I squeezed her shoulders gently. "This is wonderful! I have a new niece! I shall spoil you terribly! Tomorrow, we shall go shopping! I will buy you anything you desire!"
Baobhan Sith's eye twitched. "I... don't think—"
"It is settled!" I announced. "Tomorrow, my dear niece, you and I shall have an adventure!"
Before she could protest, I heard a sudden, loud banging from down the hallway.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
I froze. The sound was coming from Kenji's room.
Baobhan Sith's face lit up with delight. "Ohhh, what's going on in there?"
Morgan's expression shifted. Her eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened.
I tilted my head, listening. More banging. Heavy impacts. Something that sounded like a body hitting the wall.
I smiled.
"Ah! Kenji must be having a pillow fight with Barghest!" I said cheerfully. "I remember when he and I had a pillow fight. It was wonderful. I should join them!"
I took a step toward the hallway.
"Stop."
Morgan's voice was ice. I turned to see her rising from her chair, her cold blue eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her composure, usually so perfect, was cracking.
I blinked in confusion.
"Morgan? What is the matter? Are you not pleased that Kenji is bonding with your knight?"
Morgan's head snapped toward me. Her smile was terrifying.
"Oh, I am very pleased," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "In fact, I am absolutely delighted."
I stared at her. She was clearly not delighted.
"...You look furious," I observed.
Morgan's eye twitched.
"I. Am. Fine."
I decided not to argue further.
——
[(Author: uhhh... fun fact looked it up and barghest is like 400+ with multiple lovers so... yeah thought I should share that and)]
[(Also NO!!! They aren't doing that and no 18+ (yet) and besides his first is reserved for jeanne)]