Riley's fingers trembled as she reached out to brush them along Ralts's soft cheek. Her gaze flicked between them—Satoshi and the strange little creature by his side—as though trying to figure out what kind of dream she was having.
"She's… warm," she murmured again, almost dazed. "She should be afraid of me."
Satoshi didn't move. He kept his voice low and even. "Why do you think that?"
Riley's lips twisted into a crooked smile. Not the practiced grin she wore earlier, but a twitching, uneasy thing full of something too big to be just one emotion.
"Because I cut people open," she said, louder now. "I laughed when they screamed. I enjoyed it. I made things—things that crawl, that talk, that scream when you break them—because Jack said it was funny. Because I wanted to be a good girl—"
Her voice cracked. "—and he loved me more when I was awful."
Ralts flinched. The air shimmered with a burst of raw panic and Satoshi leaned forward just as Riley's breath began to hitch. "He said I was his little artist. That I was good at making pain! And I am! I am! I made a machine that turns screaming into music and—"
She gasped mid-word.
"You don't have to do it, if you don't want to, Riley," Satoshi said, but those were the wrong words to say because the dam broke in her.
Riley curled forward on herself, tiny fists clenched in her lap, rocking as sobs started to force their way out between words. "I can't stop. I can't! It's like—like a song stuck in my head, and if I don't take people apart, if I don't see what's inside, I—I feel like I'll go crazy, I—"
"Riley."
Satoshi didn't raise his voice. He just moved forward and pulled her into a hug. He didn't think. Didn't analyze. Didn't flinch.
Ralts hovered up and gently floated into her side, pressing against her opposite shoulder.
The moment their warmth wrapped around her, the sobbing stopped—not immediately, but like a knot had suddenly loosened inside her chest. Her breath hitched again, shallow and fast. And then she collapsed into him, tiny arms clung to his coat, shaking.
He held her tighter.
"It's okay," he whispered. "You're safe now. You're not with him anymore."
Ralts hummed gently, her presence a balm over raw nerves. The empathic wave pulsed through Riley's mind, slow and steady.
Riley didn't say anything. But for the first time…She didn't smile, either. She just cried quietly and honestly.
Satoshi didn't let go. Not when her sobs started to weaken or when her fists unclenched. Not even when her voice broke into hiccups that cracked the silence in the shelter. He just stayed there, kneeling in the dust and blood with Ralts pressed gently to Riley's side, offering nothing but steady warmth.
No judgment.
No anger.
Just the presence of someone who didn't leave.
"…I didn't mean to be like this," Riley whispered, her voice so small it barely existed. "I just wanted someone to be proud of me. I wanted someone to look at me and think I was special."
"You are," Satoshi said softly.
Her shoulders tensed again.
"I mean it," he continued. "But not for what you made. Not for the pain. You're special because… you're still here. You're still trying to feel something that isn't just control."
"I'm scared of going to sleep," she murmured. "Sometimes I wake up and I don't remember what I did the night before. Sometimes I do and I wish I didn't."
Satoshi rested his chin lightly atop her hair. "You don't have to be scared tonight."
Ralts let out a quiet, soothing note, her psychic field pulsing again—calm, safety, stability.
Riley's trembling slowed and her breathing evened out.
"…You're warm too," she mumbled.
Satoshi smiled, though it trembled at the edges. He waited until she went still. Not with fear or panic, but with exhaustion. Her fingers curled into the front of his coat, clutching it tight like a lifeline. And slowly, quietly, she fell asleep. Right there in his arms, head pressed to his chest, tears still drying on her cheeks.
Satoshi held her like she was something fragile, something breakable—not because she was a monster, but because maybe no one ever treated her like she was just a child.
Ralts drifted to her other side, watching over her like a silent sentinel as Satoshi whispered one last thing: "…We'll figure this out. I promise."
However, the quiet didn't last long. First came the low hum of approaching engines. Then heavy boots crunching over broken concrete and ice. Voices. Barked orders. Radios crackling.
The PRT had arrived.
Satoshi looked up, eyes adjusting to the blinding white of floodlights sweeping over the shelter. A drone flew overhead, tagging the shelter's position with a signal beacon. Moments later, black-clad officers and medics began filing down the slope in an organized rush.
Ralts tensed when Riley stirred.
Satoshi kept one arm around her, hand cradling the back of her head as he raised the other in a slow, non-threatening gesture.
"I'm with her. She's asleep. Be careful," he said.
A medic approached, flanked by two armed containment agents.
"Sir, we need to move her," the woman said—calm, practiced, professional. "For everyone's safety. She's one of the Nine."
Satoshi's grip tightened.
"She's not a threat right now," he said. "She's a child. And she just fell asleep."
"Sir, protocol—"
"She just stopped crying. She finally let herself rest. You're going to make her panic if you drag her off like she's a weapon."
Riley shifted in his arms. Her grip on his coat clenched tighter. Her breathing quickened.
She woke even when he whispered his words, not even sleeping for ten minutes. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Every muscle in her body locking up as her gaze darted from Satoshi's face to the PRT agents, then to the drawn weapons, the containment gear.
And she screamed. "No—NO! Don't take me! Don't let them—Jack will be mad—he'll cut me open this time—!"
Satoshi held her tighter, trying to soothe her. "Riley, it's okay—it's okay, you're not going back to him—"
"They'll throw me in a cell! They'll burn me like he said before! Please—please I'll be good I swear—!"
"Riley!"
She was shaking violently now, her voice cracking in panic as Ralts floated into her arms and pressed against her, humming a desperate psychic lullaby.
Satoshi turned sharply to the medic and agents. "She is not leaving my arms. Not like this. If you want to help her, you back up and lower your damn weapons."
The medic froze, uncertain. One of the agents stepped forward—And from behind them, a low voice rang out: "Stand down."
They glanced back.
EMIYA stood at the edge of the shelter, arms crossed, calm as stone. The expression on his face was unreadable, but his tone was unshakable. "He said she stays. That's all that matters."
The tension crackled in the air like static.
Riley clung to him, shaking like a leaf, her breath ragged, her small hands fisted in his coat as though letting go would mean death. Ralts cooed softly, pressing her forehead against Riley's, trying to stem the panic still radiating off her like heat from a burn.
The agents didn't lower their weapons. Not yet.
"I support the civilian's judgment."
The drone hovering above tilted downward, its voice clear and confident.
"Isshiki Satoshi engaged the Nine under extreme risk. He personally helped stabilize over three dozen survivors with the help of his companion. Furthermore—he has demonstrated appropriate restraint, compassion, and decisiveness under threat. He was the first to reach Riley Davis and the only one she allowed near her. Until further assessment can be made, I recommend she remain in his care."
There was a beat of hesitation among the PRT agents, then the medic turned to glance at her commander, who had just arrived on the edge of the shelter.
The commander took one long look at Satoshi—bloody, bruised, pale but resolute, shielding a sobbing girl and floating psychic child—and then gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"Stand down," the commander ordered.
Weapons lowered and Satoshi finally let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
Riley buried her face in his chest again, quieting but still clutching tightly.
Dragon's voice returned, gentler now: "She's scared. But she's not lost."
Satoshi stroked Riley's hair with one hand, his other arm still wrapped around her shoulders.
"Thank you," he murmured. "All of you."
He waited until the officials and medics started moving around, before allowing himself to relax. He didn't realize how badly he was shaking until the adrenaline started to fade. His fingers were stiff. His shoulders burned. His ribs—probably bruised—throbbed with every breath. There was dried blood on his temple and under his nails. Everything ached.
But Riley was still curled in his lap, and Ralts hadn't stopped holding her. So he stayed still.
Eventually, one of the medics stepped forward, cautious but concerned.
"We need to check your injuries, sir," she said gently. "You're pale and possibly concussed. We can't afford to leave internal trauma untreated."
Satoshi opened his mouth, ready to agree, but Riley tensed immediately. Her arms tightened around his middle. Her breath hitched.
"No," she whispered, barely audible. "Don't let them take you."
The medic paused. Held back. And Satoshi sighed, reaching up to pat Riley's back. "It's okay. They're not taking me anywhere. Just want to check me over."
But it was no good. Riley's panic was simmering again.
That's when a familiar sigh cut through the air. Heavy, resigned and just a little bit annoyed.
"Back up," EMIYA said, stepping down into the trench.
The medics looked to him. "Sir—"
"I know enough to handle his wounds. You can monitor from a distance if you're worried."
He was already walking over, arms rolled up, his expression carefully unreadable. Riley peeked up, blinking at him. Then at Satoshi. Satoshi smiled. "He's a friend. Though you really don't have to—"
"I know," EMIYA said flatly. "Sit still."
Satoshi opened his mouth again. Then shut it.
He sat still.
Riley loosened her grip slightly, watching EMIYA curiously now rather than fearfully. Ralts floated off to let him work, drifting to Satoshi's other side with an approving hum.
"Alright," EMIYA muttered, kneeling beside him. "Let's see what stupid part of you got broken first."
Satoshi smiled, despite everything. "…Thanks, Shirou."
EMIYA paused for half a second.
Then, without looking at him, he said:
"…Don't push your luck."
.
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