Fate: Question And Answer System of Traversing Heroic Spirits

"Father! Father!"

Just as they were about to leave, Mordred spotted Artoria eating inside through the window.

Although they had interacted in the group chat for several days, this was the first time they were meeting face-to-face.

Without hesitation, Mordred pushed the door open and rushed in, leaving Sisigou with no choice but to follow.

Sisigou hesitated briefly outside the door. The restaurant was filled with servants, and he wasn't keen on being caught up in a fight, especially after the confrontation between the Red and Black factions last night.

Inside, Artoria paused mid-bite as she saw Mordred storm in.

"Father! Father, you—"

"It's you, Sir Mordred," Artoria said, her tone calm yet distant.

After centuries, the estranged father and child were face-to-face again.

In the group chat, their conversations had been civil, their emotions tempered by the lack of physical presence. But now, standing in front of each other, the memories of Camlann Hill resurfaced vividly.

On that battlefield, neither had emerged victorious. Artoria, in particular, had never been able to fully move past that moment, even on the Throne of Heroes.

"Why?" Mordred's voice trembled. "Why don't you recognize me?"

"I've told you before, Sir Mordred," Artoria replied. "You are fit to be a knight, but not a leader."

"Damn it…"

The air grew tense as magical energy began to swirl around the two of them.

"Hey! Stop it! Are you trying to tear this place down?"

Chihiro stepped between them, arms outstretched. "This is a busy downtown area, and it's not even dark yet. Do you want to make the front page news tomorrow?"

Artoria immediately withdrew her magical energy at his words.

"And who are you?" Mordred asked, glaring at Chihiro. "What's it to you?"

"My name is Tachibana Chihiro, and I happen to be your father's Master," Chihiro replied evenly.

"Oh, so you're the one," Mordred said, crossing her arms. She looked him up and down with a skeptical expression. "I don't see what's so special about you. How did someone like you manage to win first place in the group several times in a row?"

Chihiro raised an eyebrow. "And I'd really like to know how you can judge my intelligence just by looking at me."

"Tch. None of your business!"

Chihiro shrugged. "I don't care what you think. I'm just doing my job and keeping my servant in line." He returned to his seat. "If you want to fight, wait until it's nighttime."

"Why should I listen to you?" Mordred retorted, shoving him aside as she sat down across from Artoria, a rebellious gleam in her eyes.

Sisigou sighed heavily as he walked in after her. He wanted to leave, but there was no way he could let Mordred stay here unsupervised. Reluctantly, he found a seat nearby.

Chihiro leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at Mordred. "Do you know why your father doesn't approve of you?"

"Don't get so close to me!" Mordred snapped, shoving him back. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in slightly. "Alright, why?"

Chihiro smirked and deliberately stayed silent.

"Well? Tell me!" Mordred demanded, unable to stand the suspense.

Feigning a mysterious air, Chihiro finally said, "Because you're not tolerant enough."

"Tolerant? What's that supposed to mean?" Mordred asked, confused.

"There's an old saying," Chihiro began, "that a great leader's stomach can hold a boat. In other words, only those with a big appetite for tolerance can achieve great things."

Mordred frowned. "What are you trying to say? That I have a small stomach?"

"You'll know if you have a small stomach if you test it," Chihiro replied smoothly, his voice like a devil tempting her step by step.

"Hmph. How are we supposed to test it?"

Chihiro pointed to the towering stack of plates beside Artoria. "These plates represent your father's tolerance. If you can surpass her, she'll have no choice but to acknowledge you."

Mordred's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Chihiro nodded solemnly. "Trust me. It's the perfect chance to prove yourself."

"…Alright, I'll trust you this once."

Glancing at Artoria, who was still steadily eating, Mordred hesitated for only a moment before grabbing a roasted pork elbow and biting into it with determination.

Artoria, noticing her food being stolen, didn't say a word. Instead, she simply increased her pace, eating even faster.

Mordred immediately sped up as well, determined not to lose.

For reasons no one fully understood, the father and child began competing fiercely over who could eat the most and the fastest.

Chihiro, amused, led the rest of the group to another table, leaving the battlefield to the two knights.

The restaurant owner, sensing the absurdity of the situation, decided to keep serving food without clearing the plates, letting them pile up as a record of the ongoing contest.

"Good grief," Iskandar muttered, watching the scene with wide eyes. "They really are father and child."

Even for someone of his size and appetite, a few plates would have been enough. But Artoria and Mordred were tearing through dozens of servings without any sign of slowing down.

"I hope this isn't a split bill," Sisigou muttered nervously, glancing at Chihiro. "I don't think I could afford this."

"Don't worry," Chihiro said casually. "I'll cover the entire tab for the restaurant today."

Sisigou blinked. "You're loaded, huh?"

"Let's not talk about me," Chihiro replied, turning the conversation around. "What's your plan going forward?"

"My plan?" Sisigou lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag. "You already know the Red Team's got problems. I've been trying to get in touch with the others, but so far, nothing."

It was becoming increasingly clear to Sisigou that, aside from himself, the Red Team had essentially fallen under Kotomine Shirou's control.

While Sisigou didn't know exactly what Kotomine Shirou was planning, it was obvious that the man's intentions weren't pure.

For now, Sisigou remained a Red Team Master in name only. In truth, he was completely on his own.

Chihiro leaned back in his seat, his gaze calm but calculating. "In that case, why not cooperate with me?"

He had developed a good impression of Sisigou and felt the man was someone he could trust.

Sisigou exhaled a puff of smoke and hesitated. "…Let me think about it."

Though he didn't immediately agree, he also didn't outright refuse.

---

Time passed, and the intense eating contest between Artoria and Mordred finally came to an end.

The result? Mordred's crushing defeat.

Despite her determination, her stomach had reached its absolute limit.

As much as Mordred loved food, her appetite couldn't compare to Artoria's.

"You're still far from it, Sir Mordred," Artoria remarked calmly as she polished off yet another roasted pork elbow.

"Damn it…" Mordred muttered, clutching her stomach.

"Alright, that's enough," Sisigou said as he stepped forward, placing a hand on Mordred's shoulder to stop her from attempting to continue. "Even a Servant can't keep pushing themselves like this without consequences."

"Well… it's clear my tolerance is nowhere near my father's," Mordred admitted weakly, trying her best not to throw up.

"It looks like you've got a long way to go if you want to inherit your father's 'royal stomach,'" Chihiro teased, walking over with a smirk.

"Shut up…" Mordred groaned, too exhausted to argue.

She remained slumped in her chair until evening, finally recovering after some rest.

---

"It's dark already," Mordred said, standing up and stretching. She looked at Chihiro. "Hey, you said I could challenge my father by evening."

"Yep, I did," Chihiro replied nonchalantly. He glanced at Artoria. "What do you think?"

Artoria met Mordred's determined gaze and sighed softly. "I understand, Sir Mordred. If this is what you wish, I will accept your challenge."

With that settled, the group paid their bill and left the restaurant, heading for a secluded area.

---

When they arrived, each of the Servants summoned their vehicles.

Sisigou stared at the scene, his forehead creased with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me. Are you guys really all Heroic Spirits?"

One by one, motorcycles appeared. Each vehicle looked sleek, powerful, and impossibly cool.

"These guys are way flashier than I expected," Sisigou muttered.

"Whoa!!!" Mordred exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she spotted Artoria's Motorcycle. She turned to Sisigou, her meaning obvious.

"Nope. Not happening," Sisigou said, pretending not to notice. "Wait here. I'll get the car."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off, leaving Mordred to sulk.

There was no way he was letting her ride a motorcycle. Not only were they expensive, but knowing Mordred's personality, the bike would be destroyed in less than two days.

---

A few minutes later, Sisigou pulled up in his trusty Volkswagen. Mordred climbed into the passenger seat with a dissatisfied expression, arms crossed as she muttered under her breath.

Ignoring her complaints, Sisigou started the car and drove them toward the outskirts of the city.

***

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