"Too slow, Shirou, Bedivere!"
Just returned, drunken Arash said, "I've already drunk twenty jin, as punishment for shirking booze, you must each drink thirty cups!"
"Haha!"
Bedivere humbly picked up a cup, "My fault indeed deserves punishment, but Shirou, sir, let him off, he's unsuitable."
How could the man the King favors be mixing in a place like this drinking?
Not allowed, Bedivere absolutely would not allow it.
He would guard the King's consort.
This was also a tiny way this unfaithful knight could atone.
"Unsuitable?"
Arash, still groggy, muttered, "What's so unsuitable about that?"
"Oh, right!", Arash laughed, "Because this guy is a brat, he can't drink yet."
Bedivere: "?"
"Lord Arash."
Bedivere put on a stern face, "Forgive my frankness, you are drunk!"
"Not yet! Am I or not, Fujita old bro?"
Arash snatched the meat he'd just roasted.
"…", Tawara Tota: "Lord Arash really isn't drunk, because—"
"Woooo!"
A wail rose from the children's circle; Xuanzang Sanzang used her staff as a microphone, "Da da da da… la la la."
Shirou commented that her singing wasn't as good as Umu's monster-song.
"Completely just a child."
Touta shook his head helplessly.
"I'm not a child!"
Xuanzang Sanzang suddenly appeared behind them.
She giggled, thinking to herself, "Speaking of which, just now there were three people who could be my disciples. Let's see, Shirou cooks the best, so he'll be the eldest disciple Wukong; between Touta and Arash, who will be Wuneng?"
"Wait!", Hearing the possibility of being made into a pig, Arash sobered halfway and said, "This kind of thing needs careful consideration, right? Shirou is actually the one among us who eats the most."
"So how about you swap the name Wuneng with me, Shirou?"
"No way!"
Bedivere rejected immediately, "Mr. Shirou is unsuitable for becoming a monk. Whether Wukong or Wuneng, neither is needed nor will they become Lady Xuanzang's disciples. Please forgive us!"
Arash: "…"
Touta rubbed his chin, thought a bit, then suddenly realized and admired Shirou to the ground.
As expected of a red-haired fiend, he spares no man.
That look made Shirou feel somehow offended.
Suddenly he noticed.
"Assassin, aren't you eating?"
Shirou meant the Cursed-Arm.
Since earlier he hadn't touched alcohol, nor had he eaten; he'd been hiding in a corner watching.
A dull voice came from beneath the mask of Cursed-Arm Hassan, "I'll pass, Lord Shirou. How can I put it… it's not that Lord Shirou's cooking isn't tasty, on the contrary, it's very delicious, irreplaceable."
When it came to keeping his life, he'd exhausted himself, "It's just that my body truly cannot accept human food."
"Is it because of that arm?"
Shirou looked at the right arm wrapped in black cloth.
It exuded a heavy curse and an ill omen.
"Ha ha, exactly so."
Cursed-Arm Hassan sighed, "Truly nothing can hide from Lord Shirou."
"Not really," Shirou withdrew his gaze, "I've only had a bit of contact with curses."
"Lord Shirou has had contact with a curse?"
Cursed-Arm Hassan was surprised, no, shocked.
Then he felt his tone was inappropriate, "Sorry, how to say… what I'm about to say might not sound pleasant, please forgive me."
"With Lord Shirou's strength, why come in contact with a curse? That sort of thing only brings misfortune."
He added with slight self-mockery.
"If you're interested, Lord Shirou, would you like to hear my story?"
"If you're willing to tell it."
Although his contact with the curse back then was unavoidable, it had happened, and there was nothing to explain.
Shirou adopted a listening posture.
Seeing this, Cursed-Arm Hassan, with feelings that might be envy, respect, or lament, said, "Lord Shirou, you are still among the living, right?"
"At least I'm not dead."
Shirou made a small joke.
"Yes, being alive has brought you such achievements; with a mortal body you stand shoulder to shoulder with heroic spirits."
It's hard to imagine what scene would follow after such deeds are sung about.
Cursed-Arm Hassan said, "Your talent is truly enviable."
Shirou didn't deny that.
There's nothing particularly wrong with crediting oneself with natural talent.
Of course, he then said, "If talent alone could do everything, I'd be proud of such praise for a long time. Unfortunately, talent alone won't do."
"For example, I can't achieve the high-level presence concealment that you all possess."
That was a hurdle Shirou couldn't overcome no matter what.
Even with talent, every day is a grind.
"Haha!"
Cursed-Arm Hassan laughed heartily, "After all, I'm someone who eats; if I'm surpassed further, I'd truly have no face to meet the original Hassan-sama."
After laughing he said, "As Lord Shirou sees, among the line of 'Old Men in the Mountain' over generations, I'm the most ordinary, no proud talent."
"I seem to be able to do everything, but in truth do nothing well."
In other words, he'd never brought any one thing to perfection:
"'Old Men in the Mountain' refers to the pinnacle of contemporary assassins; to earn that title one must possess an 'archetype' no one else can imitate."
"Do you, Lord Shirou, know what 'archetype' is?"
Shirou nodded; "Rather than 'archetype,' I think 'craft' fits better."
"That's not wrong."
Cursed-Arm continued, "In appearance, it's a talent that can split personalities, tranquil poisons… and so on."
"I don't possess such talent. If it were Lord Shirou, even if your presence concealment isn't top-class, your craft alone could reach the pinnacle of assassins!"
Cursed-Arm Hassan sighed, "Unlike me, lacking talent yet still yearning for the title 'Old Man in the Mountain.'"
"Looking back, perhaps I was simply too young. I wanted to become someone sung about by posterity."
The rash pride of youth.
"But I had no sufficient talent… if I forcibly had to say what remains, perhaps it's this utterly ordinary body."
"If one lacks innate talent, then let something with special power become part of your body."
"So, this right arm is no longer a human arm; it is the arm of the demon Shaitan."
"The end result."
Cursed-Arm Hassan's tone was complex, "It's like this now, abandoning everything, throwing away everything, to obtain the title 'Old Man in the Mountain.'"
He summarized in a voice that was not exactly regret but not not regret, "To be honest, I never imagined the price would be turning into something neither man nor ghost. So I hope this serves as a warning to Lord Shirou, there are many ways to gain power; please do not take the wrong path."
Shirou, who had listened quietly, said, "Assassin, thank you for your advice. I will remember it."
"…Is the topic a bit heavy now?"
Cursed-Arm Hassan said, "But now, aren't you and I the only ones not wholeheartedly enjoying the feast?"
"Therefore, I have one favor to ask, Lord Shirou."
"I understand."
Shirou stood, "I'll stretch my limbs a bit."
"You understand, that's wonderful."
Cursed-Arm Hassan spoke with admiration, "Rather, Lord Shirou's will is truly admirable. Despite being someone who most enjoys feasts and good food, you're willing to run about for the village's safety and for strangers."
"To receive your help is truly a great blessing to me, Hassan."
"It's not like that."
Shirou shrugged, then saw Fujimaru Ritsuka and the others laughing and talking in the crowd, "Calling them strangers is a bit much, they're at least friends."
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