The Novel's Extra- Returned Hero

Each bite warmed me from the inside out. The textures were perfect. The balance of flavors, exquisite. Rich, tender meat. Soft rice soaked in broth. Vegetables seared just enough to retain their bite.

Even better than Emiya's cooking. And I told him that the last time we met.

He didn't take it well.

I grinned.

Cooking wasn't just survival anymore. It was pride. A proof that I hadn't wasted my extra time in this life.

As I ate, I picked up my phone—an old model, second-hand, but still functional—and opened the news feed.

Scroll.

Tap.

Read.

Korea was still complicated.

Monster Gates, dungeon outbreaks, Hero licenses, Guild rivalries, talent-based discrimination—it was a mix of magic and bureaucracy, like a twisted blend of the Mage's Association and the Clock Tower politics.

Then I searched Cube Academy.

Its history, students, professors. I even subscribed to their official YouTube channel out of habit. Most of the videos were flashy promotions, but I needed to get a feel for the environment.

After I finished my meal and placed the dishes in the sink, I leaned back on the chair and stretched.

That post-meal haze hit.

Part of the stress in my chest finally dissolved, as if the warmth of the food settled more than just hunger. It quieted the ghosts in my heart, if only a little.

"Homemade food is best," I said aloud.

I stood up, then went to bathroom to brushed my teeth, and started my nightly ritual.

"Sigh... Okay. I've eaten, cleaned up, showered… Two weeks before Cube starts. What now?"

Then—tap tap tap.

Rain.

A sudden downpour danced against the windows. Cool wind slipped through the small gap. I walked over, pulled the frame shut, and locked it.

The world outside blurred behind rain-streaked glass.

I turned back toward the center of my room.

From the corner of the bed, I reached into the shadow beneath it.

My hand slipped through as if touching water, and then reemerged, clutching a worn, leather-bound photo album.

A magical item I created.

An artifact, in truth—born from my Spirit Origin, connected to my inner world.

A keepsake, crafted by me for me.

For every version of Ritsuka across the Throne of Heroes. So that no matter how lost they were, they could remember.

"I never get tired of seeing this," I murmured, opening it slowly.

I opened the album gently, letting the pages fall with familiar weight beneath my fingers.

Each photo was a doorway. A frozen breath of time. A fragment of who I used to be and the people who made me who I am.

I inhaled slowly—deep, measured—trying to suppress the heat building in my chest.

And then I saw him.

Doctor Romani.

The smile on his face was soft. Tired. Kind.

He was laughing in the photo. A candid shot, taken by Da Vinci when he didn't know we were watching. He looked so... alive.

Tears threatened to rise, blurring the edges of the image.

That man… he didn't just vanish.

He ceased.

He wasn't like the Servants—disconnected but still traceable across time. No. Romani was gone in the truest sense. Beyond reach. Beyond revival.

There's no summoning, no spell, no miracle that can bring him back.

Now, I can only see him in these photographs.

"That's why I have to keep going," I whispered, voice shaking just slightly. "So I won't shame the memories he left behind."

Me. Mash. Da Vinci. Romani. Olga. Castoria. Morgan. Nightingale. Mordred, Nobu, Arash. Countless faces smiled back at me—some noble, some mad, some gentle.

They were all mine. My family. My comrades. My Servants.

And then—

I held up my right hand to the ceiling, half out of habit.

The skin there was unmarked.

Just plain flesh. A little rough from daily work. A few small scars from my orphanage days.

I looked at My Command Seals.

I'm no longer the last master of humanity anymore.

I had lost it the moment I left Chaldea.

Mash… everyone… are you still watching over me?

They weren't here physically.

But they were with me in spirit. Always.

The album in my lap was proof of that.

I exhaled quietly, closing the book, my fingers resting on its worn cover.

"...Phew."

Sometimes, memories hurt.

But tonight, they comforted me.

My mind wandered.

Back to Chaldea.

To the days between missions. The calm moments before the end of the world came knocking again.

Strangely enough, despite everything—the dying timelines, the unbearable decisions—there were moments of peace.

Even joy.

I often think about the things left unfinished.

The roads I didn't take. The people I didn't reach out to.

The words I never said.

"I wonder if she's doing well somewhere... She's probably doing well..."

My voice fell into the quiet like a pebble into still water.

I was thinking of her.

Aoko Aozaki.

Among the hundreds who came to Chaldea...from every nation, era, or even different worlds entirely....she stood apart.

Even among legends, she shone uniquely. Maybe it was her magic. Maybe it was her presence. Or maybe it was just… her.

I met her during that brief mission to the hot spring inn.

The one with the youkai. The star. The strange warmth that felt more like a dream than reality.

She wasn't supposed to stay long.

But she came to Chaldea.

And in the blur of fate, magic, and madness, our paths crossed again and again.

She was dazzling.

Untouchable.

And yet—somehow—close.

That's my unfinished business, I think.

The "what if" I never pursued.

What if I had been just a little more honest? A little braver?

What if I had reached out, just once more?

For example… love.

I've been loved.

Deeply. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

By countless women who gave their hearts to me.

In every world I've been summoned to, I've seen it my other selves, versions of me living on, married to Servants who once fought by their side.

Some with Artoria. Some with Musashi. Others with Morgan, Tamamo, Ereshkigal… too many to name.

They all loved me. And I… loved them back.

How could I not?

We fought together. Bled together. Cried and laughed and clung to hope in worlds that didn't deserve saving.

And yet… we saved them anyway.

"My heart… already belongs to my Servants."

That part of me is forever theirs.

But even so—

I still wonder about her.

Aoko, who stood in the midst of that chaos with a wild smile and eyes full of stars.

Surrounded by so many unforgettable Servants...each one dazzling in their own way...I sometimes wonder why she stood out so vividly in my heart.

Maybe it was because the feelings I held for her were... just a little different.

Aoko Aozaki.

She was bright. Positive. Recklessly kind in a way that felt both dangerous and healing.

She had a way of saving people that was utterly selfish—not because she wanted recognition, but because she simply couldn't stand to see others suffer.

Even when she was far across a corridor or deep in conversation with someone else, if our eyes met, she'd always wave at me with that casual, confident grin.

There were times she offered advice too—words simple in delivery, but impossibly heavy in meaning.

"You see, I'm not a pure Servant," she said once. "Didn't I tell you that the first time we met? Being a shadow of the dead isn't what I want. I'm still a flesh-and-blood human being. See, just like this."

That day, she reached out.

She grabbed my hand before I could react and held it firmly, with intent.

Her skin was soft. Warm. Too warm to be just a spiritual shell.

At the time, I didn't fully grasp the difference between her and the other summoned beings. But one thing I did understand, without doubt, was this:

She was alive.

Vividly, defiantly alive—like someone who refused to be anything else.

"It must be hard," she told me, her eyes sincere. "Fighting all the time, being pushed around by mad gods and broken systems, wearing those same clothes every day like they're armor."

"Of course, my own struggles are mine. I won't pretend to understand everything you've been through, Fujimaru-kun. But that doesn't mean I'll push you away either. It's human to try—to want to help someone who's doing their best."

And then—

She reached out again.

This time, gently stroking my head.

It was comforting in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. Not like a distant adult offering pity, or a noble spirit consoling a soldier.

She wasn't above me.

She wasn't below me.

She was beside me. A senior. A mentor. A peer.

Aoko had walked through countless worlds too...faced monsters with nothing but her will and whatever she could grab at the time. She had that same hollowed, transcendent gaze I'd seen in Servants who remembered more than they let on. But at the same time…

She was human.

Genuinely, messily, wonderfully human.

That warmth, that light, was something I clung to without realizing it.

Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still remember her voice. Her laugh. The way her magic shimmered like starlight. The quiet moments between missions when she'd throw herself on a couch, stretch, and groan like a college student on summer break.

Despite everything...her mystery, her origin, her unreal strength....she never felt unreachable.

She felt familiar.

And that's why...

I was drawn to her.

Not just as a Magus. Not just as a warrior. Not even as a potential ally in the fires of battle.

But as a woman.

Someone I have loved.

"Senpai? Um, if I had a junior like Fujimaru-kun..."

Her voice echoed in my mind again.

"That's bad. Pretty good. Too good for nothing."

I remembered the way she said it—half teasing, half flustered. Her expression was unreadable, a little red in the cheeks, as if embarrassed at her own compliment.

"But, well. Now that Ritsuka called me senpai once, I have to show him I'm reliable. I'm in a good mood, so I'll tell you one good thing."

She leaned closer then.

Her breath tickled my ear.

"A Servant disappear once they're gone. But I'm alive. And because I'm alive—I won't forget you."

"The time you spent in Chaldea, Fujimaru-kun, can't be made public in the world you're meant to live in. You'll have to hide it. You'll pretend none of it happened. And that's... lonely, isn't it?"

"So let me be your memory-keeper. I'll remember for you. I'll make sure your story reaches the future."

"Until the day we meet again, and we can talk about everything... please don't forget me, okay?"

I closed my eyes, and I could almost smell her hair again—crisp, like ozone after lightning. Like the edge of a new era.

My memories were entrusted to her.

And in exchange… I'd been cursed with the weight of feelings I could never discard. I carried them like a hidden scar—one I couldn't bear to let go of, just in case there was ever a day I could tell her.

It was one-sided.

A quiet, secret love I never spoke aloud.

And yet...

"It's surprisingly happy. So that's the real problem..."

I sighed and looked out the window again.

The rain had stopped.

Wait. What?

The forecast had predicted it would continue until morning. Torrential and relentless. I had closed the windows not long ago to keep the water from pooling inside.

But now… silence.

The air was strangely still.

I stood from the couch, the photo album still resting on the cushion beside me.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

I froze.

Three sharp knocks.

"...Huh?"

At this time of night?

That was unusual.

Could it be one of the tenants? Maybe a plumbing issue, or they'd dropped their keys?

Or...

Tch.

Could it be another gangster?

I hadn't forgotten the last time. Some nationalist thug who hated that I looked too Japanese had tracked me down to "teach me a lesson."

Didn't end well for him.

Still, I didn't want to repeat that mess.

Not tonight.

"...Maybe it's nothing," I muttered under my breath as I stepped softly toward the door.

But something about it felt off.

The air around the entrance was thick. Heavy. A faint pressure, like magical humidity before a surge of mana.

My hand hovered over the doorknob.

I hadn't sensed magic like this in years.

"...No way," I whispered. "This presence...?"

Faint, distant—but undeniably familiar.

The knock had stopped.

The hallway beyond the door was completely quiet.

But I felt it.

The air shimmered with residue. A distortion in the magical flow of the building. The kind I hadn't sensed since—

Since Chaldea.

My barrier, It hadn't triggered.

So whoever it was... either they were harmless, or good enough to bypass my protections without setting them off.

Which meant...

A chain of unusual events.

Rain stopping early.

A familiar magical pressure.

A knock in the dead of night.

And a strange warmth blooming inside my chest—

The kind that only flared up when problems are nearby.

"Excuse me! Is anyone there? Hello?"

The voice was slightly muffled through the door, but clearly feminine. Gentle, if a bit agitated.

I sighed.

Still cautious, I slipped my smartphone into my pocket and approached the door with quiet steps. The knocking hadn't stopped.

Calm down, I told myself. Worst case, just beat them to death and give hospital bill.

I placed my hand on the handle, exhaled, and opened the door just a crack.

"Yes? What's the matter?"

A rush of cold air met me—and then I saw her.

She was there.

Standing in the hallway, drenched from head to toe. Her long reddish hair clung to her face and neck, and her coat was soaked through, water dripping from its edges. She was twisting her hair with one hand, trying to wring out the moisture, while the other flipped her boots over to dump out pooled rainwater.

"Ugh, my clothes are wet and sticking to me and it feels gross. Oh, sorry to bother you so late at night."

Her voice was casual, lightly embarrassed.

"I know this is sudden, but just for a bit—"

And then she looked up.

Her eyes met mine.

She froze.

Her mouth opened slightly in shock, the apology on her lips forgotten. Then her eyes narrowed with suspicion... then widened again in recognition. Her expression shifted so fast it felt like watching a timelapse.

And then, she smiled.

Beamed, really.

"Aoko-san?" I breathed.

There was no doubt.

Aozaki Aoko.

The woman who lived rent-free in a quiet corner of my heart. The one I once swore I'd never forget.

The one I'd thought I'd never see again.

"Eh?! Fujimaru-kun?! Finally! I found you!"

Her voice lit up with delight, and before I could stop her—

"It's been so long! How have you been?!"

She stepped forward, arms wide, aiming straight for a hug.

"W-W-Wait, wait, wait—!"

But my words were ignored completely.

She wrapped her arms around me, pressing her soaked, warm body against mine without hesitation. Her chest—definitely bigger than I remembered—squished against me through the wet fabric of her clothes.

I went stiff.

Mentally. Physically.

All of me froze.

And then, just as casually, she pulled back.

"Ah... right. I'm soaked. Oops."

She glanced down at herself, finally registering how drenched she was. Her clothes clung tightly to her skin, outlining every curve, and just from a passing glance, I was far more aware of her figure than I wanted to be in this moment.

She laughed, brushing some wet bangs away from her eyes.

"Wow, I got a little excited."

'Cool down,' I told myself. 'Deep breaths. This is not a dream.'

Because it wasn't.

She was here.

Aoko Aozaki was really here.

At my apartment door.

In the middle of the night.

Soaked to the bone.

Smiling at me like nothing in the world had changed.