Rin dragged herself into the house like she had just fought an army single-handedly. Her usually perfect posture was gone, her hair slightly disheveled, and her bag slipped off her shoulder as she collapsed onto the couch with a long, drawn-out sigh.
Shirō, who had been sitting on the floor of the dojo, still fiddling with Excalibur, glanced up. "Rough day?"
Rin didn't answer immediately. Instead, she raised a hand, pointed at him dramatically, and declared, "Massage my shoulders. And make me dinner. I am too exhausted to lift a finger."
Shirō blinked. "I am not your servant."
Rin cracked open an eye, looking at him like he had just spoken absolute nonsense. "You owe me, Saber. I saved your life. Healed your stupidly reckless wounds. I spent my precious gems—very expensive gems, mind you—on keeping you alive. So, I think a little gratitude is in order."
Shirō sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "That doesn't mean you get to order me around."
"It does when you have zero self-preservation instincts and I have to clean up after you!" Rin shot back. "Honestly, what were you thinking? Stabbing yourself with Excalibur? Do you like making things harder for yourself?"
Shirō looked down at the holy sword in her lap. The blade still felt foreign in her grip, but it was hers now. A weight she couldn't escape.
She exhaled. "It worked, didn't it?"
Rin groaned. "You absolute idiot. That's not the point! Ugh, forget it, I don't have the energy to argue. Just—massage my shoulders. And cook."
Shirō looked at her slumped form, the way her hands hung limply at her sides, and despite himself, he sighed again, setting Excalibur aside.
"Fine."
Rin grinned victoriously as Shirō walked over, kneeling behind the couch and placing his hands on her shoulders. The second he pressed his thumbs into the tense muscles, she made a noise that was alarmingly close to a purr.
"Finally."
Shirō tried to ignore the feeling of his face heating up. "You're ridiculously tense."
"Of course I am," Rin grumbled, resting her chin on the couch's arm. "I had to deal with school all day, pretend like I wasn't dealing with supernatural battles at night, listen to teachers drone on about things I already know, and then make sure no idiot Masters decided to cause trouble during lunch. Do you have any idea how frustrating it is?"
"Not really," Shirō admitted.
Rin huffed. "Figures. You've always been the type to just throw yourself into things without thinking."
"That's not true," Shirō defended.
Rin craned her head to give him a look. "Oh? So stabbing yourself with Excalibur was a well-thought-out plan?"
Shirō opened his mouth—then shut it. "...Fair point."
"Exactly." Rin sighed, rolling her shoulders as Shirō continued kneading them. "You're lucky I'm nice enough to patch you up."
"Nice isn't the word I'd use."
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
Rin smirked but let it go. After a moment, she relaxed completely under his hands. "...You're actually good at this."
Shirō didn't respond, focusing instead on working out the knots in her shoulders. He had done this plenty of times before—Taiga always demanded shoulder rubs after long kendo sessions, and there were plenty of times he helped his late father, Kiritsugu, when he was feeling worn out.
It was a simple task. One of the few things that didn't require magic, swords, or fighting. Just... helping someone.
After a few more minutes, Rin stretched, arching her back slightly before letting out a satisfied sigh. "Alright, that's enough. Time for dinner."
Shirō frowned. "You can't just order me around, you know."
"Can't I?" Rin grinned. "You already agreed to it. No take-backs."
Shirō muttered something under his breath but got up, heading toward the kitchen. Rin followed, flopping into a chair as she watched him start pulling out ingredients.
"What do you want?" Shirō asked, already pulling out rice.
"Something delicious."
"That's not helpful."
"Use your heroic instincts, Saber."
Shirō shot her a look but didn't argue. He moved efficiently, setting the rice to cook before grabbing vegetables and meat. Rin leaned her chin on her hand, watching him with interest.
"You're so domestic," she teased.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"No, no, it's great. Admirable, even. Maybe you should quit being a Master and just become a househusband."
Shirō gave her a flat look. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
Rin laughed.
Despite the bickering, there was something... normal about this.
For a moment, it wasn't about the Holy Grail War. It wasn't about Servants, Masters, battles, or death.
Just two people sharing a meal.
Shirō set down a plate in front of Rin, and she immediately perked up at the smell.
"Wow, that was fast," she said, picking up her chopsticks.
"You're lucky I'm used to making food for hungry people."
Rin took a bite—and visibly melted.
"...This is so unfair," she muttered, shoveling more food into her mouth.
Shirō blinked. "What?"
"You're good at everything. It's annoying. You can fight, you can cook, you can massage—what's next? Are you secretly a genius too?"
Shirō scratched his cheek. "I think you're overestimating me."
Rin pointed her chopsticks at him. "Nope. You're just naturally talented. It's infuriating."
Shirō wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just continued eating.
They finished in comfortable silence, Rin setting her chopsticks down with a satisfied sigh.
"Alright," she said, stretching. "I guess you're forgiven for nearly dying."
"Guess?"
Rin smirked. "But I am keeping you in my debt, Saber. So don't think this lets you off the hook."
Shirō rolled his eyes. "I should've let you cook for yourself."
"Too late now." Rin leaned back with a smug grin.
Shirō sighed but didn't argue.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to owe her.