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Robin had lived his whole life without attachments.
And who could blame him, really? Shunned from the very village he sought to protect - being both the village's target of hatred and its protector, with his only reward for this pitiful attempt of being a hero being a bitter end full of regrets and the feeling of slowly bleeding out, surrounded by no one but his dying thoughts.
That's why, with his cynical nature, he did not see being summoned to Chaldea as his second chance. Was this supposed to be some kind of a redemption for his sorry excuse of a life? Years of experience proved him again and again the universe would never be this kind.
Chaldea was brimming with life and servants, even he had to admit this place had a wide variety of personalities, some he gets along with better than others, but also cultures. The servants were unique and different, with the only thing unifying them all being the Master that seemingly had a talent for playing with other people's hearts like a fiddle, heroic spirits or not. Those lovesick fools were nearly painful to watch, really, after all it was crystal clear that the Master, at the end of the day, was just a skilled manipulator.
People's first impressions are hard to convert, once a person gets into their head that a certain person is evil, no matter what evidence is handed on a silver platter that proves otherwise, they will continue to be stubborn creatures that will still hold onto their pride and gut feeling. That's why, even after communicating with the master and getting closer to him, Robin will not fully trust him, and will not overlook even the tiniest clue that could imply he's faking his friendly nature.
Because, in case Fujimaru Ritsuka truly is such a good person, he'd have to stop pretending that he hadn't become one of the lovesick fools himself.
Master brought him on another mission today. No matter how hard he tries to decipher what could be gained from investing time and effort into a third rate, faceless servant like him, he still cannot find an answer for the life of him.
("Haha, do you really need a clear reason for everything you do? Though, if I had to answer why... It's because you're one of the few servants that make me feel at ease, o-or something. Agh! Just please don't say anything about my comment to the others!"
Robin hates himself for feeling red to his ears even after that conversation had long ended.)
As per the usual with their outings, they arrange a makeshift camp to stay the night in after a long day of battles. Most of the duties with hunting falls on Robin's shoulders, and also as per usual, he complains about it. Hunting wild rabbits and boars had been easy enough even while he was alive, it's almost automatic to him, like a second nature. Tracking them down, trying not to alert them, and then swiftly killing them. Frankly, he could do the job with his eyes closed, but the disgusting sense of childish satisfaction he gets from being asked by his master for this task with the fake words of "Please! You're the only one I can count on!" whenever he plays hard to get keeps this petty routine of theirs alive.
Ah, when did he become as pitiful as to earnestly want to do all of his master's bidding, he wonders.
Master is stirring in his sleep a lot more than usual tonight. Robin thinks of himself as a creep that he knows what the "usual" amount of stirring in his master's sleep is, but realizes he's far too gone to reprimand himself for thoughts like that when he's leaning against a tree, spending the whole night unmoving in one position, focusing solely on his master the whole night. Master is using his May King as a blanket, being so enveloped by it that only a part of his face and the hands clutching the cloak are visible. He looks so vulnerable and defenseless - does he not realize that one of these so called heroic spirits could slit his throat anytime they'd feel like it? But of course, the master is always trusting, always open like a book.
It kind of frustrates him.
Master is an enormous glutton. From what he's noticed, the guy can eat about as much as the King of Knights without much effort. There's nothing elegant about the way he eats either, devouring the rabbit so fast Robin feels like he should be already getting ready for another hunting session. His stomach is like an endless pit, always having free space for more.
He wonders if that gluttony of his applies to his servants too - relishing in their words of praise and loyalty as if he's enjoying a particularly good dessert.
Robin realizes he hasn't expressed to him either.
With the breakfast of Fujimaru Ritsuka finished, they slowly start packing up their makeshift camp and start heading towards their new destination. Master is being particularly stubborn today - following him around like a newborn puppy, even though Robin feels like it should be the other way around. He excitedly talks about the new foreigners that deem his presence worthy, and the fun adventures he's gone on with other servants.
("Oh this reminds me! Last time I was out training with Arjuna, in the heat of the moment, he had mistaken a small bug for an enemy assassin and immediately fired his Noble Phantasm at an otherworldly speed, leaving me dry for the rest of the trip. He used up my whole mana! For a bug! All of it!"
His laugh sounded like music to Robin's ears.)
Getting in fights was a norm at this point. His master had an amazing luck for attracting any kind of enemy in the vicinity, it was impressive, really. Sometimes, the enemy would be a big shot, the kind of enemy you'd struggle to fight and end up using your Noble Phantasm on out of frustration, to his Master's chagrin. Sometimes it was a small fry that even Robin could defeat without even using his poison. Seriously, unless his Master was fixing a singularity, the fights boiled down to a few simple tactics and commands. It was stale, boring but -
Getting in fights was a norm, but getting their master injured wasn't.
One second, his master is barking out commands Robin feels like are unneeded, it's a weak enemy, already poisoned and on the brink of death, why would he be in any kind of rush? But like a cornered rat, the bastard musters all of their strength into a final attack that Robin avoids almost too easily - an attack he'd sneer mockingly at had he not heard the sharp cry of pain coming from the voice he knows all too well.
It was funny, the cynical and sharp realist was now praying to any and every deity to ever exist so that when he turns around, he finds out that his clumsy yet hardworking master simply stumbled over a rock - wasn't hit by the projectile or anything that could potentially harm a single hair on his head.
Robin himself isn't sure what happened after that, he saw blood - dark red spreading across the white of Ritsuka's Chaldean uniform, slightly too big on him, that always smelled like peaches and home. He saw the widened eyes that mirrored his own, the expression of someone that is still slow on the uptake yet is already feeling the consequences, the single expression he now realizes he'd fight the world for just so Fujimaru Ritsuka never wears it again.
("Why do I fight on the front lines? Haha, is that supposed to be a jab at my uselessness? I know I'm not much help, but if I were to see my friends get hurt fighting for my cause while I'm sitting at a comfortable distance like an outsider... I think I'd rather risk my life. "
He agrees with the sentiment, yet the urge to tie his master up and forcefully make him abandon the battlefield makes his fingers twitch.)
He doesn't finish the enemy off, perceives it as mercy not earned by someone that would dare try to make an attempt on his Master's life. No - experiencing gut wrenching pain from his poison seems like a much better end.
Robin tries to shove and kick any part of his brain that decides to comment on the way he's treating Ritsuka's injury like the young boy's made of porcelain, with feather-like, tender yet simultaneously practiced and firm touches. Treated him like he's never had the chance to treat anyone while he was alive.
(But Chaldea is not his second chance at life.)
Chaldea is having a special commemorative party for finishing another singularity. It's been postponed due to Master's injury, the injury that he was at fault for.
(But he will not think about it, lest his master's comforting and forgiving eyes focus on him. Big and warm, with no deception he so seeks hidden inside. The eyes that make him feel things a being like him should not feel. Anything but them.)
Maybe, just maybe, in a parallel universe where he is not a coward, he would've been next to Fujimaru Ritsuka's side, drinking and laughing together with their shoulders bumping, but in this world, he will misuse his May King to avoid any social interaction he might find bothersome. He knows that he should pack his bags and go back to his room. Being present is not mandatory, some servants didn't even show up at all, preferring to spend their time in their rooms or studies. He's nothing more than an invisible ghost in this place full of obnoxious laughter and pointless resource spending, but something - a feeling that's nagging at him, one he cannot identify - keeps him from leaving.
Master is the person that is surrounded the most, many servants finding great pleasure in being in his presence like moths to a flame. Mash is by his side, trying to fix his party hat that Master thought was a hilarious idea to add, while the doctor is discreetly trying to take a picture of them, choosing to ignore Da Vinci's teasing. The scene is almost domestic, like a tight-knit found family.
Some servants get impatient and immediately ruin the atmosphere by dragging Master away with the carefulness of someone carrying a sack of potatoes. Robin's face nearly morphs into a frown until he stops himself - who's he to order others around on how to treat their Master? This should not have to do anything with him at all. A female assassin he went on a mission with one time tries to nudge him into drinking a cup of alcohol, her own cheeks red even though the party has started not even two hours ago. Robin notices the way Master's smile tightens, the way his eyes momentarily panic and look for a way out. And Robin thinks that finally, the Master that's been slowly turning himself into a pushover will speak his mind.
Master takes the cup.
It wasn't a big surprise to find out he's a complete lightweight. He's already lolling his head, as if trying to find something to lean on, his smiles too weak and face too red. His words slipping, a push away from telling the people he's been so desperately trying to befriend what's really on his mind.
("Stop pretending? Huh? What do you mean? Do you think of me as some kind of evil manipulator even now? Aww, that hurts a little, Robin."
Eyes that almost instinctively divert themselves, a hand scratching his neck as if embarrassed, and a soft, shaky sigh that reveals the crushing pressure a mere human teenager should never undergo.
Robin finds it too sad, too painful to watch.)
He decides to make a move.
The servants, few of which he's on friendly terms with, complain when he slowly puts his arm around their Master's shoulders, steadying him while also making an effort in covering him with his cloak. He quickly smooth-talks his way through the horde of wasted servants, some that look like they're not many steps away from massacring each other, and quickly retracts from the main hall.
Robin doubts there's a servant that does not know the way into their Master's room like the back of their hand, including him even though he's never been there. The main hall is quite a while away from his room, with two turns to the right and one to the left. He slowly feels Master leaning into his touch, but then drop the hesitation and put his weight onto Robin as if he was his lifeline. The smell of peaches encircles around him, so strong it nearly makes him dizzy. This is the first time he's been so close to the person he's been so wary and distrustful of. The person he'd fight anyone, betray anyone and kill anyone for.
Master has come a long way, but so has Robin Hood.
After walking in silence for a couple of minutes, he finally sees the room he's been searching for. He borrows his Master's ID card more out of politeness than actual need, the security is so pathetic that Robin could've lockpicked the door even with his hands tied. The room is plain, clear white walls and floor that'd belong more in a dreary hospital, without much decoration or personality - lifeless and empty, no matter how expensive the furniture is. Almost ironically fitting for his master.
He slowly begins to position him into a lying position on his soft mattress, tenderly and carefully. Ritsuka opens his eyes for the first time during their small trip, and in them Robin sees himself - personality and existence spread so thin as to become everything and anything a person wants them to be. The target of the village's hate. The Humanity's last hope. The black sheep. The incompetent master. The protector. The person - no, child - on whose shoulders lies the fate of the entire world.
A small hand, rough despite its appearance, reaches out to him, almost nervous yet resigned.
"Would you stay with me for a while?"
Robin would want to be anywhere but here, but nowhere else at the same time.
His May King is a useful Noble Phantasm. It's definitely not flashy or interesting, but discreet. He would not trade it for a powerful sword, or a potion that'd make him immortal. It's truly the perfect artifact for him.
So when the morning comes, and Fujimaru Ritsuka's eyes flutter open, slowly, nearly delicately, and search for something that is not here - something that is not visible - even he's surprised by the gut wrenching feeling of guilt and regret.
Were he anyone else, he'd take his cloak off with a "Gotcha!" and kiss his master's forehead good morning. Were he anyone else, maybe he would've accepted this as his second chance from the start instead of persistently pushing it down, and then wanting it back when it's already too late. Every second is ruining his chances even further, he should step out while he still can and try to salvage this pathetic little crush he feels -
However, he is but one of many Robin Hoods, a pointless, indistinct existence. A coward.
And so he does nothing.