[This setting in which this conversation is unfolding before them couldn't be less appropriate. There is music rising and falling in the background, laughter and conversation against the foreground. On occasion one might hear a roar of some kind, a snarl of something hidden away accompanied by the delighted gasps of clients ready to make a bid. Waiters in steel-toed shoes and other high-end patrons pass and go, all paired up, shining and flashing all their golden trinkets for all to see.

At any other time it would disgust Shousetsu to no end.

But now the only revulsion she feels is the one of reality, of realization as Rider recounts her last moments in their world.

She feels the world tip briefly and grips the edge of the booth with her hand.]

Sensou-ji... where we stood ground against Lord Iori and Saber...

[As Shousetsu speaks her words soften into disbelieving whispers, but the sound still carries in the space between them. So Rider was still alive— is alive now, and the one sitting across from her was—

—the very same as when her helmet was removed.

A pressure builds in the forefront of her brow and her hand rises to press back against it. She was certain— no, confident that she had witnessed Rider's demise with her own eyes. Shousetsu herself was near death, ready to give what little life she had to put an end to the dark cloud that was Caster's ill-intentions.

And now, these versions of themselves... were once again placed strategically on a game board.]

Rider, [The samurai manages after a moment, her hand hesitantly brushing back her hair— a force of habit.]

Suppose... I were to tell you that I remember something very different.

[That pale hand falls flat upon the table, almost like a peace offering, as though she meant to cut it from her wrist and offer it to her. With the way she looks at Rider one might think she means to.]

I ask you— would you believe me? Not as your Master... but as someone you once fought with.