It was a little before the battle against Tiamat, at the inn where Chaldea stayed to rest in Uruk.
"…Huh?"
Ishtar yawned, eyeing her doppelgänger with a mischievous glint. As expected, Ereshkigal looked utterly perplexed, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, frozen like a statue. Frankly, even Ishtar herself admitted the plan was bold, but that was exactly why she believed in it. She loved these absurd, unpredictable… passionate ideas.
The real question was: would Ereshkigal go along with it?
Nearly five minutes passed in tense silence before Ereshkigal finally managed to process what had been said. When she spoke, it was almost an incredulous whisper: "Y-You're serious?"
"I swear on the Tablets of Destiny themselves," Ishtar replied with a faint smile.
The Lancer's eyes widened even further.
*She… she just said what I think she said?*
The weight of the proposal crashed over Ereshkigal like the room itself had grown denser, as if gravity had chosen to bear down solely on her shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to process it.
"So… you're really… talking about him?"
Ishtar hesitated for a moment, her eyes softening.
"I'd be a fool if I wasn't. I mean, when it comes to men… he's one in a million."
It was rare to see the goddess of love with such tenderness on her face. Even though it was Ereshkigal's face, the Lancer could feel the emotions behind the mask. They were genuine.
"A goddess of love falling in love… ironic, don't you think?"
"You don't fall in love easily. And the few who manage it… they usually meet tragic ends. I could even make a list."
Ishtar's brief smile confirmed: she knew. Ereshkigal did too. That only made it all the more unbelievable.
"Both of us… in love with the same man."
"If someone had told me this a while ago, I'd have laughed. Especially at the idea of having to share him with you." Her tone was light, but there was a melancholic note in her voice. An implicit acknowledgment of the scenario's impossibility—or its madness.
Ereshkigal raised an eyebrow. "And why not settle it with a duel to the end? It'd be more… traditional."
She spoke with an almost cynical tone, but the image of hundreds of fools who'd ended up in the underworld for similar reasons flashed through her mind. What irony it would be if the goddess herself now played that role.
Ishtar sighed, crossing her arms. "First, I don't think that's feasible in our situation. Second, we don't have much time, since we'll soon face the last enemies of this Singularity, and Kazuya will return to Chaldea. And third…"
She fixed her with a serious look.
"Do you really think Kazuya would want to see us fighting over him?"
Ereshkigal's gaze faltered. She knew the answer even before Ishtar finished.
If they fought, everyone would lose. Kazuya most of all—he'd suffer, blame himself, pull away. And that… that would be unforgivable.
Gilgamesh would love to watch from the sidelines, but it wasn't something she wanted to see happen.
"I know he's mortal… that his time in this world is short…" the Lancer murmured, her fingers interlaced on the table.
"…But that doesn't make the feelings any less."
"In fact, it makes everything even more precious," Ishtar said softly. "That's why I want to cherish every second by his side. Every little moment."
For a moment, the goddess of war and love wasn't a divine entity or a force of nature. She was just a woman, in love, vulnerable. And across the table, Ereshkigal was a mirror of that same emotion.
"What if we end up overwhelming him?" The question came as a whisper, but the fear was real.
"We won't. Or at least… we'll try not to."
Ishtar shrugged.
"That's what love is, right? Taking a risk. Even without guarantees."
Ereshkigal took a deep breath. She sat up straight, her expression resolute.
"I won't ask for your word; you've already given it. In return, I offer mine."
She nodded firmly.
"Alright. I'm in, Ishtar. Now there's just one thing left… will Kazuya accept this too?"
"Honestly? I hope so." Ishtar yawned, as if all the tension of the conversation had evaporated. "How about we leave the details for tomorrow? This day's been way too long. I need a nap… you?"
"Deal."
---
Kazuya stared at the steaming lasagna on his plate like it was a final boss in carbohydrate form, resting his elbows on the table with the resigned expression of someone who'd already lost to RNG multiple times that week alone.
"This looks… radioactively honest," he commented, poking a piece with his fork. "But considering it was made by a goddess, any food made with care is already worth more than any jewel…"
Before Ishtar, seated at the other end of the table, could respond, he took a bite.
He chewed. Swallowed. Looked at Ishtar with a serious expression.
"So… good news: I'm still alive."
Ishtar made a face, crossing her arms, offended with an intensity that would probably make any lesser deity evaporate from shame.
"Hey! That was made with care, okay? This lasagna was a symbolic gesture of gratitude. A divine favor. A culinary offering. The repayment of a magnanimous and infinitely marvelous goddess—"
"Who used a microwave," Kazuya muttered, chewing cautiously, "…and forgot to remove the plastic under the tray. This tastes like melted polymer with a slight hint of frustration."
"YOU'RE COMPLAINING ABOUT THE FOOD OF A GODDESS OF WAR AND LOVE, YOU UNGRATEFUL MASTER?!"
"I'm not complaining. But made with care? You're not even eating it—it was made for someone else to eat, right?" Kazuya shot back, raising an eyebrow.
Ishtar turned her face away, nose in the air. "Of course not! Eating that would be beneath my dignity. I'm a high-class goddess, literally! This food was made for a mortal, adorably useless man like you to feel loved."
Ereshkigal, beside him, nearly choked on the laugh she tried to hide behind her hands. She was kneeling by the table, materialized in a completely natural way, with an expression so delicate it could've come straight out of a shoujo romance—yet her spiritual core hummed with an aura that could turn a continent into an underworld with a snap of her fingers.
"Can I feed you?" Ereshkigal asked softly, her cheeks flushed with that charmingly devastating shyness. "Just… to make up for the bad food. I should've made it myself instead of leaving it to Ishtar."
The dragon nearly choked on the piece of burnt cheese. Ishtar immediately spun around, eyes sparking.
"What?!"
"Just… just a little. If it's not a problem…" Ereshkigal already had a spoon in hand.
Kazuya glanced sideways, then at the lasagna, then at Ishtar, who was trembling with jealousy and indignation two meters away. The equation was simple.
"Sure, Eresh. I'm fine with it."
Ereshkigal smiled as if she'd won the celestial lottery, carefully picking up the fork and blowing on a piece before bringing it to his mouth.
*"Surprisingly better than when I eat it myself,"* he thought, accepting the food as if it were the most normal thing in the world, which, honestly, it was starting to be.
While Ereshkigal fed him a bite of lasagna with the care of someone offering divine ambrosia, Ishtar huffed beside them.
"This is ridiculous. RIDICULOUS. Fine, two can play this game." She grabbed another spoon, leaned in from the other side, and practically shoved it into his mouth. "HERE. TAKE IT. Top-quality magical energy!"
"This one's burnt?" he said with his mouth full.
"Silence!"
For a while, it went back and forth: one goddess feeding him with sweetness, the other with passionate anger. Kazuya, like a true isekai protagonist, accepted his fate and the melted cheese with serenity.
Between bites, he asked casually, "So, what did you two do today?"
Ereshkigal answered first, her voice soft: "We walked around the city a bit. Ishtar wanted to take a look, and I went along to keep her out of trouble. Don't worry, we wore normal clothes and didn't do anything magical to draw attention. We stopped at a nearby park full of kids and normal people…"
"And there was this old lady who offered us pastries," Ishtar added, ignoring her sister's words because she couldn't stay quiet, now clearly fishing for extra points. "She called me her granddaughter and said I should get married soon. Can you believe that?! Married! Me!"
"…And you took the pastries anyway," Ereshkigal murmured, amused.
"Details," Ishtar shot back, waving a dismissive hand. "Point is, we took a stroll, saw the human world… and maybe I grabbed some jewels from an abandoned shop. And before you say anything, it was *abandoned*, okay?! Well, I mean… it was a gift! Sitting in the display, nobody took it, I considered it a divine sign. Besides, nobody saw!"
Ereshkigal sighed. "I saw. And now you just told him."
Ishtar blinked, processing. "Oh."
"Small detail," Kazuya said, raising an eyebrow. "Like the plastic in the lasagna."
"YOU'RE NOT LETTING THAT GO, ARE YOU?!"
He laughed, swallowing another bite. The feeling of being cared for, literally fed by two goddesses who loved him, was strangely comforting.
The minutes passed quickly.
Kazuya finished chewing the last piece of lasagna with a sigh—satisfied or resigned, it was hard to tell.
"Okay, that was… a culinary experience."
He pushed the plate aside, wiping his fingers on a napkin like a warrior who'd just cleared a dungeon with poison, burn, and continuous damage debuffs.
"I'm gonna take a shower." He stood, stretching his arms. The defined muscles of his shoulders and arms shifted under his loose shirt, instantly drawing the attention of the two deities watching him as if he'd activated a passive seduction Noble Phantasm.
Ishtar flashed a wicked smile. Her eyes gleamed with that hot, signature mischief, an explosive mix of love goddess and S-class tsundere. She watched him stand with the predatory gaze of a bored hunter about to have some fun.
"Shower, huh?" Ishtar repeated, her smile slow, malicious, and dangerous enough to make any mortal rethink their life choices. "Need… divine help scrubbing your back, Master?"
"Ishtar!" Ereshkigal grumbled, though the faint blush creeping onto her rosy cheeks said far more than her voice let on. She bit her lower lip discreetly, looking away like an innocent maiden in a drama… which was hilarious, considering she was literally a goddess of death who ruled Mesopotamia's underworld.
Kazuya shrugged, completely oblivious—or pretending to be—to the emotional meltdown he was causing with a simple movement. "Just gonna relax a bit…"
Ereshkigal averted her eyes, but her gaze lingered a little too long on his broad back as he headed toward the hallway.
The image from that morning still burned in her mind—the casual way Kazuya had stripped off his clothes in front of them to put on his uniform, revealing a body sculpted like a celestial warrior, with defined lines, pale skin, and a calm air that clashed with the physical intensity he now carried, so different from the leaner, more youthful Fujimaru of before.
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of the bathroom door closing and the faint rush of water starting.
Ishtar still stared down the hallway, resting her chin in one hand with a thoughtful expression—a mix of admiration and pure, shameless lust.
"Not that I'm complaining, but… when did he get *that* hot?" she murmured, more to herself.
Ereshkigal, still flushed, jumped slightly. "I-Irrelevant! That's irrelevant! Our duty is to love him for who he is, not… objectify him."
"Liar," Ishtar shot back with a smirk. "You're blushing down to your soul, little sister."
Ereshkigal clutched her hands in her lap, looking away as if the floor had suddenly become fascinating. But the truth was, she could still see, with the clarity of a freshly carved memory, the moment he'd taken off his shirt that morning.
But what really broke her heart was the contrast.
That young man from Chaldea was kind, brave, a little clumsy, and always ready to throw himself into the impossible for everyone around him. Even when he was exhausted, even when he knew the battle was lost. She loved him for that. For all of it. But he was… mortal. Fragile.
Now, he seemed to have been reborn with everything that was good in him.
Ereshkigal took a deep breath, trying to push away the memories overlapping with the present. It was a second chance.
Both of them had seen him die.
Not just die—disappear. After the end of the Lostbelts, Ryougi Kazuya, their Master, their adorable fool, their savior, had ceased to exist. And they had cried. Screamed. And, eventually, returned to the eternity of the Throne of Heroes… or rather, the Throne of Gods, specifically.
Never again, they thought. They'd never see that crooked smile, that way of trusting them even without the faintest idea what he was doing.
And yet… there he was. Kazuya.
Reincarnated. With a new name, a new body—much more muscular, mind you, a bonus neither of them expected—and that same spark in his eyes. But when he summoned them… he seemed strange. As if he were struggling to understand why his heart raced so fast seeing them there.
They wanted to run, hug him, smother him with kisses and tears. But they held back. Because he furrowed his brow. Because his eyes took a moment to truly recognize them. As if he knew, deep down, who they were, but his soul was still connecting the dots.
So they waited.
Ishtar masked it with arrogance, of course. Ereshkigal, with sweetness. Neither dared to break the delicate line between "you're alive" and "you're the same as before." They just let him hug them, both without pushing, and had a calm, quiet morning.
But when he came back from school later… something changed. Maybe it was the way he looked at them, as if he'd finally accepted that the impossible was truly happening.
And in that moment, once again, everything was right.
Ereshkigal looked at Ishtar, her eyes brimming with restrained emotion.
"He's alive, sister… and he's still him. He might not even know how much we missed him. But I… I felt it. So many things I wanted to say. Things I held onto for so long. And now that I can speak… I'm at a loss for words."
After hearing her sister's admission and seeing that her earlier teasing hadn't worked, Ishtar turned her face away, her ruby eyes gleaming with a warmth she pretended not to feel.
"Honestly? I was gonna punch him. Swear. I was gonna throw him against the wall, yell at him for dying. For leaving me… alone." She paused, biting her lower lip. "But when I saw his face, which, despite being different, so different… as information about his identity flooded in like a Grail, all I could think was: 'He's back. He's here.'"
The two fell silent for a moment, listening only to the distant sound of water running in the bathroom.
Then Ishtar stood, her expression a mix of defiance and resolve.
"And you know what? I'm not letting this slip. Not this time. If he's back for us, if this world gave us a second chance, then I'm taking mine too."
Ereshkigal's eyes widened. "I-Ishtar… you're not going to—"
"Oh, I am," the goddess replied with a bold, dangerous smile. "I don't need permission to show I still love that idiot. And he shouldn't doubt it for a second."
She took a determined step toward the hallway, her form shimmering slightly as she began shedding each piece of clothing with the arrogant, celestial confidence of someone who knew the impact she caused—convenient that Servants could change their attire with a thought.
Ereshkigal hid her face in her hands but peeked through her fingers, her heart pounding.
"Ishtar, that's not fair…"
"Everything's fair in love and war," she replied with a wink, vanishing down the hallway.