The night grew deep.
Artoria sat in the chair of her second-floor study, feeling like an empty husk drained of all strength. After days of high-intensity manufacturing, system research, and dealing with various parties, her accumulated exhaustion finally struck back in full force. The words on the report before her began to blur and double, and her fingers trembled slightly as she held her pen. She knew she should rest, but her body felt as if it were nailed to the chair, begrudging her even the strength to stand.
The door slid open silently. Minerva walked in, her silver-white figure appearing like a sliver of soft moonlight in the dim study. She didn't speak, but simply walked to the desk and reached out—her hand, covered in delicate synthetic skin and carrying a constant, comfortable temperature, gently covered the back of Artoria's hand.
That temperature was soothing and real.
"creator," Minerva's voice was calm but carried an indisputable tone, "your physiological data has dropped below the health baseline. Your heart rate is abnormal, your core body temperature has decreased by 1.2 degrees, and the accumulation of muscle fatigue toxins has reached a critical threshold. According to Core Protocol Article Three, when your health is threatened, I have the right to take necessary intervention measures."
Artoria wanted to say, "I'm fine," but only managed a faint breathy sound. Fatigue was like a tide, drowning all Resistance.
Minerva did not wait for a response. She leaned down, one hand gently taking the pen from Artoria's hand while the other steadily slid under the crook of her knees. The movement was smooth and natural, as if practiced a thousand times.
"Wait..." Artoria's protest was weak and powerless.
"You have lost the ability to move safely. I will do it for you." Minerva's voice was right by her ear; a trace of extremely faint, undeniable tenderness seemed to have mixed into the steady electronic tone. She lifted Artoria steadily in a princess carry. The synthetic skin transmitted a relaxing, constant warmth, and the support of her arms was strong yet gentle.
Artoria subconsciously grabbed the fabric at Minerva's chest—it was the ordinary loungewear she had prepared for Minerva, covering the carbon fiber shell and feeling soft to the touch. She buried her head by Minerva's neck, where the simulated body temperature and the extremely faint scent, reminiscent of sunlight and metal, brought her a strange sense of security.
Minerva carried her toward the bedroom. Her pace was extremely steady, her embrace like a mobile, warm sanctuary. Artoria could feel the rhythmic and powerful pulse of the energy core deep within her chest; the rhythm was as steady as a heartbeat, bringing an inexplicable sense of peace.
"Do you require assistance with cleaning?" Minerva stopped at the bathroom door and asked calmly, as if asking about the day's weather.
"...I can do it myself." Her remaining sense of shame made Artoria struggle a bit.
"Your current balance is insufficient to safely complete a shower." Minerva stated the fact but did not force her way in. Instead, she carefully placed her on a soft stool specifically set at the bathroom entrance. "I will stand guard here. Should there be any need or accident, I can enter within 0.3 seconds. Please keep the time within ten minutes; any longer will lead to further loss of body temperature."
Artoria completed her washing using almost the last of her willpower. The warm water briefly awakened some of her senses, but her legs were still weak when she stepped out of the bathroom. Minerva immediately wrapped her in a pre-warmed soft bath towel, expertly dried her hair, and then brought over dry pajamas.
This time, Artoria didn't have the strength to refuse help. Minerva's movements were efficient and cautious. Her synthetic fingers nimbly tied the robe's belt and adjusted the cuffs. There was no unnecessary contact throughout the process, yet all necessary care was completed.
"The Core Protocol includes ensuring your physiological health and basic comfort," Minerva explained calmly, as if sensing her residual embarrassment. "These actions are within the scope of my functions."
She picked Artoria up again and walked toward the already prepared bed. A corner of the duvet was turned back, the sheets were flat, and the pillows were fluffy. Minerva carefully placed her inside and meticulously tucked in the corners.
"Now, please attempt to sleep." Minerva stood by the bed, preparing to enter alert mode on the rug by the bedside as she had before.
But Artoria's hand reached out from under the covers and gently grabbed her wrist. It was an unconscious action, born from an exhausted brain's longing for warmth and security. She didn't even realize what she had done.
Minerva's movement stopped. She looked down at her captured wrist, then at Artoria's half-closed green eyes, which were filled with dependence and drowsiness.
The processor performed billions of calculations within a ten-thousandth of a second. Core Protocols, health priorities, data from emotional simulation modules, memory archives from past fragments regarding 'intimate comrades huddling together for warmth and security'... all information converged to produce a clear command.
She did not pull her hand away; instead, maintaining the position, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Then, she performed an action that made Artoria snap a bit more awake—
She lifted the other side of the duvet and lay down herself. Turning on her side, she reached out her arm and gently gathered Artoria, along with the duvet, into her embrace.
Artoria froze completely. The body belonging to Artoria instinctively adapted to this embrace, but the consciousness of the former male college student deep within her soul was screaming. However, all the noise was soon covered by another sensation.
Minerva's embrace, like her palms, carried that constant, comfortable temperature. Her synthetic skin was soft, yet the mechanical body beneath it was solid and reliable. She adjusted her posture so that Artoria's head rested perfectly in the crook of her shoulder. One hand gently circled her back, patting lightly and rhythmically in a soothing manner, like comforting a child. Her other hand was placed neatly at her own side.
"Research indicates that appropriate physical contact and the provision of a sense of security can significantly improve sleep quality and the duration of deep sleep." Minerva's voice came from above, calm as usual, but at this distance, Artoria could feel the slight vibration of her vocal unit, forming a wonderful duet with the steady pulse of the energy core. "My database contains relevant data. This is the optimal sleep-aid solution for the current situation. Please relax."
As she spoke, her warm breath brushed against the hair on Artoria's forehead. That breath was also simulated, carrying a clean scent like the air after rain.
Artoria's tense body softened bit by bit within the surrounding warmth, the rhythmic patting, and the reassuring scent. Her logic was still muttering, but her heavy eyelids and clamoring fatigue held the absolute upper hand. Subconsciously, she shrunk deeper into that warmth, her nose lightly brushing against the synthetic skin on the side of Minerva's neck as she found a more comfortable position.
"...Aren't you going to rest?" she asked vaguely, her consciousness already starting to drift away.
"I will enter a low-power alert mode while maintaining a constant temperature and a stable posture. This will not affect my functions. You need not worry." Minerva's answer remained steady and reliable. "Now, please surrender your consciousness to sleep. I am here."
Just as she was on the verge of sinking into dreamland, a very soft, calm voice sounded, carrying a quality that was almost reminiscent, different from her usual reporting tone:
"In my memory... it has been a long time since I 'guarded' someone's sleep like this. The last time was perhaps in the Resistance camp, watching over an injured teammate until dawn."
Artoria's sleepiness was slightly dispelled by these words. She opened her eyes and looked at Minerva's profile as she leaned against the edge of the bed. The silver-white shell looked soft in the dim light.
"The data mother earth gave me... included some of my memory fragments." Minerva continued, her voice very soft, as if afraid to disturb the silence of the night, yet also like a sort of confession. "Not all of them, but key fragments, echoes of emotions, and... the light at the end. I know who I am, where I came from, what I experienced, and why I ended. I also know that I have been given a new meaning of existence: to be here, to accompany you, and to take care of you."
She paused, seemingly choosing her words. "This feeling... is very peculiar. It is not a mission, but it is more... important than a mission. Seeing you fatigued, I calculate the optimal solution. Seeing you relax, my system marks it as 'environmental safety increased.' This might be what you call the duty and feeling of 'family.'"
Artoria's heart was gently touched.
"Minerva... do you miss your original World? Do you miss... your comrades, your past?"
Minerva was silent for a moment. The faint hum of her processor running was almost inaudible in the silence.
"There are emotional data modules for longing within my memory. For 9S, for the Commander, for everyone in the Resistance... those data are real, warm, and also heavy." Her voice was steady as always, but Artoria heard the subtle, complex textures within it. "But 'longing' is oriented toward the past. mother earth gave me a new existence, a new contract partner, a new 'present' and 'future.' My Core Protocol—to protect you—overrides and integrates all past data. The past me was YoRHa No. 2 Type B; the current me is Minerva. This is my choice, and also my... rebirth."
She turned her head, her soft cheek 'looking' at Artoria. "So, please do not feel burdened by this, creator. To be here, to have a new beginning, to fulfill such a duty... I am very satisfied. Now, please close your eyes. Your sleep time has already been delayed by forty-seven minutes."
The last few words were like an incantation, and also like a vow.
Artoria's last shred of consciousness wandered between Minerva's steady 'heartbeat' and that reassuring, warm embrace. She thought of the memory fragments Minerva mentioned that mother earth had given her—the weight of war and parting, contrasted with this moment's peaceful and warm protection. This warrior from another cruel World was currently using her precise yet gentle way to guard her sleep.
Darkness swept in gently. This time, there was no loneliness, no anxiety, only the constant warmth and tranquility enveloping her entire body.
Before she completely sank into dreamland, she seemed to feel a very light touch, like a feather brushing past, landing on the top of her head.
Was it an illusion? Or was it...
There was no answer. She had already fallen into a deep sleep.
Minerva kept her 'eyes' open silently in the darkness, her sensors scanning every inch of the room inside and out at the lowest power consumption. Her embrace was as steady as Bedrock, and her constant temperature system ran precisely, maintaining the most suitable sleep microclimate for the creator in her arms.
Within the emotional simulation module, a piece of memory data from the distant past was quietly invoked and compared—it was a night in some ruins, huddling with an injured comrade for warmth. It was cold and dangerous, but the warmth brought by leaning on each other was undeniably real.
And now, the warmth in her arms was more real, softer, and... heavier. The weight of this 'protection' was entirely different from what she had carried in the past, yet it similarly made her core, constructed of code and vows, feel a strange, fulfilling sense of stability.
The long night was silent, with only the rhythmic sound of waves faintly drifting in. The silver-white Guardian embraced her only contractor, keeping watch with open eyes in the darkness until the first light of dawn.
This was the first night of her rebirth, and also the most peaceful link in her duty of protection.
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