Chapter 37: May Blues Is No Joke, You Know

                         

Chapter 37: May Blues Is No Joke, You Know

Fuyuki City – Matou Residence.

“Assassin! That’s way too much oil! Are you trying to give Zouken a one-way ticket to the afterlife with his high blood pressure?!”

“Lancer! Are you trying to mess with me?! Who barbecues a whole fish without gutting it first?! What is this, the 1st century?!”

“Rider! Why the hell did you dump half a seaweed forest into the rice cooker?! What?! You wanted to steam Shinji in it?! Quit wasting perfectly good food!”

“Berserker! AGAIN with the calves in the kitchen?! How many times do I have to say this?! These appliances weren’t made to roast an entire cow!!”

“Sakura! Stop sneaking your grandfather’s worms into the pot! Are you trying to make everyone lose their appetite?!”

. . .

“—So yeah, that’s the situation. Master, Archer’s about five seconds away from losing it.”

Sitting on the living room sofa, Arturia put the receiver back to her ear with a dry smile.

“Everyone’s really full of energy. They’ve been working hard... at driving Archer insane.”

Thanks to Fate/Stay Night’s Japanese box office blowing past 2 billion yen, the Servants had decided to celebrate with a feast.

And now, the Matou family kitchen has been transformed into EMIYA’s screaming arena.

He probably never imagined—not even in his worst dreams—that his fellow Heroic Spirits could be this completely unhinged.

Not to mention a certain someone who thought tossing her grandpa’s ancient collection into the pot was a totally fine idea.

“Did you give Archer any trouble?” came Shinji’s tired voice from the other end of the call.

Arturia puffed out her chest and answered with pride.

“Of course not. Only Gilgamesh and I stayed out of it. We hold ourselves to the dignity of kings.”

“Don’t give me that.”

Shinji yawned. “Gilgamesh is just lazy, and you got banned from the kitchen, didn’t you? If they let you in, the food wouldn’t even make it to the table—you’d have eaten everything already.”

“That’s not true!”

Arturia snapped back instantly—but her words were slurred, a clear sign she was full and drowsy.

Shinji’s guess was eighty percent right, at least.

“Master, that’s mean! I may have a hearty appetite, but I’d never do something that selfish!”

“...”

“Master? Master!”

No reply.

Arturia called out again, worried.

“Huh...? Oh.”

Shinji’s voice came back, groggy and sluggish.

“You weren’t listening, were you?” Arturia asked sternly.

“Sorry,” Shinji mumbled, rubbing his cheek with a finger. “Kinda spaced out there. What were you saying again?”

“Nothing...”

Arturia paused for a moment, then asked, voice tinged with concern, “Master, are you okay?”

“Mm... just a bit sleepy.”

Shinji let out another big yawn, unable to hold it in.

“Sorry, Arturia. I need to rest. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

He ended the call before she could respond, surrendering at last to the pull of sleep.

“Master...?”

Arturia lowered the phone, staring at the now-busy signal as a frown crept across her face.

‘That’s strange... He’s always so energetic. But just now, he sounded completely drained.’

‘Almost like something’s been sucking the life out of him…’

Just then, Sakura, freshly kicked out of the kitchen by EMIYA, walked by and spotted the puzzled knight.

“Saber-san, something wrong?”

Arturia turned to her with a serious expression.

“Master just called. He didn’t sound well at all.”

“Oh, that?”

Sakura waved a hand like it was no big deal. “He’s probably got a case of the May blues.”

“Eh?”

Sakura didn’t notice Arturia’s confused expression. She just continued on, lost in her own thoughts.

“I’ve been feeling pretty sluggish myself lately. I guess it’s just that time of year... May really does that to you.”

“You too, Sakura?”

“Yup.”

“Um...”

Arturia looked a little embarrassed as she raised her hand hesitantly.

“Sakura, this May blues... is it some kind of magical curse?”

“...”

“......”

Sakura, who had just been casually waving her hands, froze in place.

She slowly turned her head and looked Arturia up and down like she’d just encountered some kind of rare magical creature.

“You seriously don’t know, Saber?”

Arturia lowered her head, ashamed.

“I-I’m sorry... The Holy Grail gave me a lot of knowledge, but when it comes to niche modern magical conditions, I, uh... didn’t get the full download.”

‘Oooh... now this could be fun.’

Sakura, who had been bored since Shinji left, immediately realized she had a golden opportunity on her hands.

A perfect chance to mess with someone and kill time.

“Well then... about this so-called ‘May blues’...”

Sakura held back a laugh and put on her best deadpan face, voice low and dramatic.

“‘May blues,’ also known by its full name—Magical Circuit Maladjustment Syndrome—is caused when a magi’s magical circuits fail to acclimate to the seasonal energy flow. It most commonly manifests between May and June in Japan. Thus, it’s earned the nickname May blues.”

She looked completely serious as she spun her totally made-up explanation.

“Early symptoms include fatigue and loss of concentration. If left untreated, it progresses to nausea, vomiting, total magical dysfunction... and in the final stage, you start coughing up blood and die.”

“Wha—What?!”

Arturia’s face turned pale, eyes wide with panic.

She had been completely taken in.

“Master— is he going to die?!”

Sakura waved her hands lightly, trying to calm her down.

“Not that extreme. Back when Mystery was strong, it was incurable, but now it’s just... annoying. If you leave it alone, it still seriously affects your ability to use magecraft, though.”

“No... that can’t happen...”

Arturia immediately imagined Shinji collapsing mid-spell, triggering a magical explosion that would engulf the entire household—and all the Heroic Spirits in it.

She grew visibly anxious.

“Sakura, is there any way I can help you? And Master? How do we treat this?!”

Sakura paused, eyes glinting mischievously. She leaned in close and whispered into Arturia’s ear:

“Well... it can be cured... if you put on lots of cute outfits.”

Arturia looked deeply skeptical.

“Really? That’s all it takes? Sakura, are you sure you’re not joking?”

Sakura gave a warm smile that definitely didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well, for me it doesn’t matter who wears them. But my brother, you see... he’s especially fond of you, Saber.”

“Ah!”

Arturia made a tiny fist and tapped it against her palm as a look of enlightenment dawned on her face.

“I see! Now it makes sense!”

Nearby, Medusa had been listening quietly—and with growing concern.

She had no idea what this “May blues” actually was, but she is sure it didn’t involve vomiting blood or magical dysfunction.

“Um... Sakura?”

“Rider-neechan～ Don’t you also want me to get better soon?”

Sakura turned her head slowly, and a dark aura began to emanate from her slender frame.

“Y-Yes. Absolutely,” Medusa answered quickly, eyes wide.

‘Sakura... what a terrifying child.’

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Of course, far away in Cannes, Shinji had absolutely nothing to do with “May blues.”

He was just—plain and simply—exhausted.

The perfect premiere of Fate/Stay Night had made serious waves. The film was suddenly on everyone’s radar, and curious attendees from all over the world wanted a chance to see it for themselves.

That said, most of the local French critics had been merciless in their reviews.

Their scores were low across the board, and their feedback was full of the same tired, pretentious phrases that Japanese critics liked to use.

If you looked only at the French media, you’d think Fate/Stay Night was a total disaster of a film.

Unfortunately for them, Cannes wasn’t just a French event.

It was an international film festival, and journalists from every corner of the world had descended on it.

The British press, in particular—perhaps fueled by their eternal need to disagree with the French, or thanks to Type-Moon’s excellent PR team—were full of glowing praise.

But it wasn’t just the media.

Ordinary viewers who had seen Fate/Stay Night were now passionately spreading the word themselves, urging friends, strangers, and everyone in between to go watch this out-of-place masterpiece that defied everything else being shown at the festival.

Under normal circumstances, word-of-mouth wouldn’t have had such immediate impact.

But this was Cannes—a film festival packed with people who ate, slept, and breathed movies.

Everyone here only talked about film, and any recommendation was bound to spread like wildfire.

Before long, the whole of Cannes felt like a ghost town, with thousands flooding into the few theaters showing Fate/Stay Night.

Even those who didn’t typically enjoy action-heavy fantasy films were now lining up, if only to see what the hype was all about.

Of course, this unexpected wave of attention quickly became a logistical nightmare for the Type-Moon team stationed in Cannes.

There simply weren’t enough staff members to manage the crowds.

In the end, Shinji had to mobilize every single person he could find.

Even he wasn’t spared—he was running around non-stop, handling everything from scheduling to seat shuffling.

That’s why he’d sounded so completely wiped out during his call with Arturia.

But even with everyone pitching in, the theaters screening Fate/Stay Night were still in total chaos.

The film festival’s own security and local police were forced to step in and help maintain order—because the crowds clamoring to see Fate/Stay Night were just that massive.

In just two days, five people had been arrested for causing disturbances while trying to get in.

Naturally, the logical thing would be to increase the number of screenings to ease the crowd pressure.

And indeed, the festival organizers had already suggested this to Shinji—multiple times.

But every single time, Shinji had shot them down without hesitation.

In his view, these crushing crowds—the kind you’d see during rush hour in a packed metro station—were perfect publicity for Fate/Stay Night’s launch in the West.

If they started showing the movie in more theaters, the crowd would spread out.

The lines would vanish.

And then what would Shinji use for marketing?

If there were no huge queues or mass panic, how would people believe this film was a once-in-a-generation blockbuster?

But there was another, even more practical reason for his stubbornness: box office revenue.

You see, for all films screened during Cannes, any money made from ticket sales went entirely to the festival organizers.

Sure, regular attendees paid for their tickets, which technically meant there was box office revenue—but the film crews themselves didn’t see a single cent.

Worse yet, the production teams were expected to cover the extra costs of any additional screenings.

More showings didn’t mean more money—it just meant more expenses.

Why would Shinji agree to lose money and give the festival more free content?

Of course, the organizers tried to spin it:

“Oh, these funds help support the development of world cinema~!”

But anyone with half a brain could see through that excuse.

“Damn greedy French bastards! They’re so annoying!”

Shinji groaned after once again sending off another overly persistent festival rep.

“How many times do I have to say it?! I’m not expanding the screenings! Learn some comprehension already!”

Seated nearby, Derek Ford, the old industry veteran, chuckled leisurely.

“Can’t blame ’em, kid. This twelve-day stretch is the only real time they get to rake in serious money. Of course they’re squeezing every drop they can.”

Shinji crossed his arms and clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Ugh, if I’d known this would happen, I would’ve dragged Irisviel and the whole Einzbern family out here with me.”

“Huh? Why would that help?” Rin tilted her head, confused.

“This isn’t the Berlin Film Festival. The Einzberns don’t have any real pull in France, right?”

“Of course it’d help!” Shinji retorted immediately.

“The only language the French actually understand—is German!”

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