Dawn painted the sky with that lazy orange of someone waking up only because the universe demands it, and not out of their own free will. I get the sun. It probably also wanted to sleep for another five millennia instead of having to illuminate another day of human dramas and questionable fashion choices.
I was sitting cross-legged on the prow of the boat, my blasé expression carefully calibrated. My poor, now-mutilated jian rested beside me, a silent testament to the fact that, sometimes, even the oldest and most stubborn things can be broken by a redhead with an excess of emotions. My spot. My sanctuary. The corner where I could pretend people didn't exist or that, if they did, they were at least far enough away not to call me 'gloomy ears' again. Yes, Natsu, I remember that. And no, I still haven't forgiven you. Your lack of creativity with nicknames is a personal offence.
Speaking of the devil himself...
"I'M NOT GETTING ON THAT BOAT! IT'S A TRAP! A TORTURE DEVICE! A DEMONIC INVENTION TO STEAL SOULS THROUGH VOMIT!"
There was the emotional incendiary, clinging to a coconut tree as if it were his last link to sanity and a functioning stomach. The scene was so pathetic it was almost a form of art. And beside him, floating with all the dignity of a deflated party balloon, was Happy:
"Oh, Natsu… this every time… you look like a stroppy toddler at the dentist's."
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO VOMIT YOUR OWN SOUL OUT THROUGH YOUR NOSE, HAPPY! IT'S AN EXISTENTIAL EXPERIENCE I WOULDN'T WISH EVEN ON GRAY!"
[Specimen Dragneel's level of drama is inversely proportional to the stability of the surface beneath his feet. My sensors indicate that his soul is perfectly intact, though his stomach contents are at serious risk. Historical data suggests that eating the ship's entire food supply usually accelerates the boarding process,] Eos commented in my mind, ever so helpful.
Natsu bellowed, clinging to the coconut tree as if it were the last line between him and a watery hell. The boy was pale. And with a greenish hue that, frankly, didn't match his pink hair in the slightest.
Happy spun in the air with an expression of pure judgement. "You face monsters without blinking, Natsu… but a little ripple makes you cry for your mummy?"
"I'M NOT CRYING! I'M... SWEATING THROUGH MY EYES! WITH DISGUST! IT'S A PHYSIOLOGICAL PHENOMENON!"
It was then that Mirajane, already elegantly settled on a wooden bench, dripped her poison with the calm of someone savouring chaos:
"How cute… our great little fire dragon, the terror of Fiore, defeated by a bit of salty water and a gentle rocking. So manly, Natsu."
Natsu looked at her with the horror of one who has been betrayed in the cruellest way. "You… you're mocking me?! With that fake angel face of yours?!"
She smiled with the sweetness of a freshly sharpened obsidian knife. "Mocking? No, of course not. I'm just stating a scientific fact: you're strong, brave, and utterly useless whenever the ground moves. It's a fascinating case study in paradoxical weaknesses."
Natsu screamed. Elfman, feeling his friend's masculine honour (or perhaps his own) being attacked, screamed louder. The sea, in response, produced a slightly stronger wave. And Elfman nearly had a heart attack.
"THE SEA IS A WILD, TREACHEROUS BEAST! IT DOESN'T RESPECT REAL MEN! IT'S CHAOTIC!"
"…but I am a real man…"
"…just… not very waterproof… OR JUMP-SCARE-PROOF!"
On the other side of the boat, about thirty metres away, I could feel the vein on Master Makarov's forehead pulsing like a tiny lighthouse of fury. His patience must have already taken a lifeboat and rowed for the horizon.
"NATSU, STOP HUGGING THAT BLOODY COCONUT TREE LIKE IT'S YOUR MOTHER! ELFMAN, GET ON THIS BOAT NOW OR I'LL CATAPULT YOU MYSELF! AND FOR THE LOVE OF ALL TEARS AND FORGOTTEN GODS, DON'T START A MUTINY BEFORE WE'VE EVEN SERVED BREAKFAST!" he bellowed, his titan's voice in a gnome's body echoing across the beach.
Mirajane, as always, seized the opportunity to distil her venomous irony. "Did you know that Natsu screaming from seasickness sounds exactly like a cat being vaccinated? I have auditory references. The melody is almost the same, it just needs a meow at the end."
"You're cruel! And you're having fun at my expense!" Natsu whimpered, hugging the coconut tree as if it were his new best friend and only anchor in this cruel world.
Ah, the sweet, melodious sound of family. It almost makes one want to gouge out their own eardrums with a magical ice cream scoop, just to have a bit of peace.
The sea rocked beneath the boat's hull with that lazy back-and-forth that makes the weak seasick and the strong, deeply irritated. I was neither. I was just... there. Watching the horizon paint itself with the soft hues of dawn. Pale blue, shy gold, that sort of melancholic vibe the day has before it decides whether it's going to be beautiful or a tragedy foretold with a soundtrack of vomiting. I took a deep breath. The salty air pricked my memory with recollections of other lives, other seas, other boats... and other wars, usually more organised and less noisy than this one.
And it was then that I felt it. That gaze.
It took me a moment to lift my eyes, but I already knew who it was, without needing to confirm. My ears twitched slightly in her direction, catching the almost inaudible sound of her breathing. Erza.
She was standing there, at a respectful distance, as if caught between the impulse to come to me and the fear of… not knowing what to say. What a novelty. She fiddled with the edge of her belt, an almost imperceptible gesture of nervousness that only someone who knows her well or who has an invasive AI analysing her micro-gestures would notice.
[Alert: emotional presence with intent to approach detected. Ambient social tension levels: rising. System suggests emotional retreat to a safe location, activation of the 'indifferent ancestral entity' facade, or feigning sudden death. The latter option has a 93% success rate for avoiding difficult conversations.]
I resisted the tempting idea of lying down on the deck and feigning a mystical collapse due to an overload of second-hand sentimentality. Barely.
I continued to stare at the sea, feigning a deep, philosophical disinterest, playing my best role of a mysterious entity too busy contemplating the secrets of the cosmos to notice a red-headed teenager with her heart in her hands. But inside… I felt it. That light, irritating, uncomfortable warmth. As if someone had lit a bonfire in my ribcage and refused to put it out.
Erza. The girl who holds her own world on her back as if she were born for it. The same one who, a few years ago, held a sword she could barely lift, looking at me with those stubborn, stupid eyes. And now she was there, looking at me as if… as if she wanted to understand something that not even I myself understood.
She looked away the exact instant our eyes met. Her cheeks, even from a distance, turned a rosy shade. Very cute. Ridiculously, irritatingly cute.
[Visual interaction analysis: eye contact established and subsequently interrupted by Unit Erza. Conclusion: mutual embarrassment detected. A minimal smile was also detected on your lips, Azra'il. Stop that. You're ruining your misanthropic image.]
"Shut it, Eos. It's a facial spasm."
"Talking to yourself again!" shouted Happy, who had decided that the top of my head was a better perch than my shoulder. "Maybe Natsu's seasickness went to your brain by osmosis!"
I sighed, the picture of dignity in ruins.
"If I throw myself overboard right now, do you think the sea will take me in a dignified and poetic manner, or will I just float like a frustrated, bad-tempered corpse?"
"Frustrated corpse!" repeated Happy, flying in circles and apparently finding the idea hilarious. "You're so weird, Azra'il-chan!"
While the circus of horrors I called my friends screamed, mocked, and now a very seasick Natsu clung to the mast as if it were the last pot of jelly at the end of the world, I just stood there. Feeling. Not the rocking of the sea. But that gaze.
And I swear, if she keeps looking at me like that, with that mix of respect, fear, and something warmer, I'm going to have to invent a new excuse for these heart palpitations. Chilli tea, perhaps. Sounds promising.
[Confirmation: Unit Erza is in an internal loop of 'to approach or not to approach'. Probability analysis indicates an 87% chance of a mild emotional breakdown if she continues to ponder.]
(It's so cute when she tries to be brave… but fails miserably. Go on, my emotionally-cracked-armour-wearing warrior. You can do it.)
She took a step. Then another. Her shoulders were tense, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wasn't looking directly at me; her eyes were glued to the floor, as if the deck's planks were infinitely easier to face than I was. So dramatic.
"Can I… sit here?" she asked, her voice more subdued than usual. None of that usual fiery, authoritative confidence. It sounded like she was asking for permission to enter a sacred temple, not to sit on a piece of sea-spray-dampened wood next to a grumpy teenager.
"If I said no, you'd sit anyway, you stubborn thing," I replied, without turning.
"Maybe."
I gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. She sat down beside me, maintaining a distance of about two hand-spans. In my head, that distance screamed like a cosmic chasm full of embarrassment and unsaid feelings. She held the fragment of my broken jian in both hands, as if it were something sacred, or perhaps just an excuse not to have to look at me.
"I'm sorry… about this," she said, her voice low, gesturing with her chin towards the piece of wood that represented her victory.
"There's no reason to be sorry," I said, finally turning to face her. My voice came out lower than normal. Almost gentle. I hated it. "It's been broken before. Many times, in fact. But it had been… a rather long time since it had found a good enough reason to."
I ran my fingers over the crack, like someone tracing an old scar. The wood was cold, but the memory of the impact was still there, warm. "And if it was going to break again, I'm glad it was by your hands."
She looked at me, surprised. The blush returned, a silent fire on her cheeks. "But… this sword is special to you. I've felt it since our training sessions. And yet I…"
"It is special, yes," I smiled. A genuine smile, which was a rare event. "But not because it was made by some legendary craftsman or enchanted with forbidden magic from a demon lord with a speech impediment. It's special because it was with me when I had no one else. Because it absorbed every drop of sweat, every breath of a training session, every thought I buried within it in silence. It's a part of me. But even parts of us break sometimes, Red. That's how we know we're still alive."
Erza lowered her head, and then I saw it. The expression in her eyes. That of someone who has finally understood something that couldn't be put into words.
"Will… will you be able to fix it?"
"Of course I will. It'll take time, patience, a few refinement techniques I learned somewhere… and maybe some very strong tea to keep my hand steady."
"Tea?"
"Tea solves everything. Except Natsu. Natsu is a lost cause."
[According to my data, the ingestion of certain teas has a positive correlation with improved concentration and fine motor control, which would be useful for such delicate craftsmanship. Does this include the mending of broken hearts and broken swords?]
(Shut up, Eos. You and your cheap metaphors.)
She laughed. That little laugh, almost a secret, that she lets out when she finally relaxes. When she allows herself to forget her armour, both the metal and the emotional kind.
"I… I felt strange after I broke your sword," she confessed, her voice a whisper. "It was as if I had passed through a part of you that you had never, ever shown me."
"Maybe you did," I said, and the sincerity of those words caught me off guard. "Maybe that's the point. We only truly know people when we see what breaks them."
I winked at her, returning to my safe harbour of sarcasm. "And since you broke my sword, Red, with all that emotional drama of yours... just imagine what you'll do to the rest of me."
Erza looked away again, completely, gloriously, wonderfully red now. She lowered her head, clutching her knees, but she didn't move away. On the contrary, I felt her lean slightly in my direction, as if she wanted to be closer, but without admitting it. A comfortable silence hung for a few precious moments, an oasis of calm in the middle of the floating madhouse. Until the world, of course, decided to remind us that we were part of the loudest guild in Fiore.
"AAAAAAAZRA'IIIIIL, ERZA'S TRYING TO SEDUCE YOU WITH HER PITIFUL FACE, DOOOON'T LET HER DO IT!"
Natsu appeared out of nowhere, hanging upside down from a mast rope like a bat with serious balance issues. He was completely green. And not with envy, but with pure, abject nausea.
"The only thing that's going to seduce me right now is the glorious sound of silence coming from your mouth, you pretend-salamander," I replied, and with a light touch of my telekinesis, I flicked the mast. The whole boat shuddered. He plummeted with a SPLASH straight into the sea.
"THE SEA IS A PUNISHMENT BEFITTING THE WEAK!" shouted Elfman, clinging to the ship's rail with an expression of panic that would make a rabbit feel brave. "BUT FACING THE OCEAN WITH COURAGE AND WITHOUT COMPLAINING IS WHAT A REAL MAN DOES!"
"You're trembling like a leaf, Elfman. And I think I just saw you praying to a seagull," Mirajane commented from the other side of the boat, with the smile of a bored demon, as she elegantly peeled a piece of dried fruit. "The only thing you've faced so far is the trembling of your own legs."
"IRRESPONSIBLE!" shouted Makarov from the deck, with his thirty centimetres of pure paternal chaos. "STOP ROCKING THIS OLD CART! AND YOU, AZRA'IL, NO THROWING YOUR GUILDMATES OVERBOARD! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT MYSELF?!"
"I barely used any magic, Master. Gravity did all the heavy lifting. Technically, he fell on his own."
[For today. I saw that murderous intent in your eyes when Natsu yelled. My sensors registered an intention for 'launching of a noisy, organic object' at 97.8%.]
The awkward silence settled back in for a few seconds, like a cat deciding to ignore the house's noise out of sheer boredom. Erza was still there, sitting beside me, her face as red as if she'd drunk a concentrated tomato potion. She pretended to look at the sea, but I saw her out of the corner of my eye. She was looking at me again. Surreptitiously. With a mix of curiosity and perhaps... affection.
[And her little heart is still in 'red alert for unprocessed feelings' mode. Risk of spontaneous internal combustion due to an excess of cuteness and emotional tension in 3... 2...]
"Erza…" I began, in a softer tone, surprising myself. "I know you've already apologised. About seventeen times since our duel. But… really. Don't anymore."
She turned her face, surprised.
"I knew it would break again one day. The Jian. It was made for that, to endure, to break, and to be rebuilt. But for a long time, it stayed intact. And I thought it was because no one else was worthy of breaking it."
I touched the hilt with my fingertips, where a faint glow of my magic still lingered, ingrained in the wood.
"You were. And that, as irritating as it is to my pride, means something."
Erza said nothing. But she looked at me in a way that seemed to want to say everything. And I, for the first time in centuries, didn't want to look away. And then, of course, as the universe loves to ruin good moments with stupidity, the chaos returned with full force.
"AZRA'IL-CHAN! IT'S BREAKFAST TIME, AND I CAN'T FIND THE GALLEY! WHERE'S THE GALLEY ON THIS TORTURE BOAT?!"
"Happy, you have wings. You could find the galley on an invisible airship piloted by a cross-eyed gnome!"
"BUT I'M HUNGRY, CONFUSED, AND EMOTIONALLY TRAUMATISED BY YOUR FIGHT!"
[Oh, my magic core, he's going to end up running into some sentient giant squid and challenging it to a fish-eating contest,] Eos sighed mentally.
I stood up, shaking imaginary dust from my clothes. The broken Jian still with me, like a promise. Erza followed me with her gaze, but said no more. She just sat there, looking ahead… and maybe, just maybe, a little at me.
The journey to Hargeon was, as predicted, tolerable. If you ignored the screams of Natsu being hauled back onto the boat with a fishing net and Happy crying with laughter on the mast, it was almost peaceful. As soon as we docked, Makarov practically leaped off the boat and kissed the city's ground with tears in his eyes. So dramatic. I stuffed Natsu into a wheelbarrow I 'found' lying around, and the trip to Magnolia was... noisy. Fairy Tail level.
"I WANT A BARREL OF STRAWBERRY JUICE! I'VE EARNED IT!"
"NO! YOU'LL HAVE GINGER WATER, YOU DEHYDRATED DRAGON!"
"THE SEA WATER ALREADY WASHED AWAY MY DIGNITY! AT LEAST LEAVE ME THE TASTE!"
As we passed through the gates of Magnolia, the guild was already waiting for us. A wonky, badly made banner read: "Welcome back (still alive for now!)". They were shouting as if we had won a war, when in fact we had only overcome Natsu's growing seasickness.
"ELFMAN, YOU'RE ALIVE! THAT'S MANLY!"
"ERZA, I HEARD YOU BROKE AZRA'IL IN HALF! TELL ME EVERYTHING!"
"AZRA'IL, DID YOU THROW NATSU INTO THE SEA AGAIN?!"
"I didn't throw him," I replied, my patience at its end. "He tested gravity with my technical assistance."
We entered the guild, crushed by hugs and questions. And, despite all my aversion to human contact and noise, I couldn't deny it. This, the old wood, the smell of hot food, the discharged magic, the insanity, was, in some twisted way, what they called home.
"AZRA'IL, FANCY A DRINK?" Cana was already offering me a tankard.
"Yes. A tea. Of silence. Extra strong. And maybe a little poison for the headache."
Makarov was already bellowing at the back of the hall. "NATSU, GET OFF THE FLOOR! ELFMAN, STOP SHOUTING AT THE PILLAR! AND ALL OF YOU, STOP EXISTING SO LOUDLY!"
At the entrance, Erza stopped for a second. She looked at the mess, breathed... and smiled. That discreet way, that she tries to hide but never can. And then she looked at me. That look again. Warm, full of things she still doesn't know how to say.
[Alert: emotional fluctuation detected. Patient Azra'il is exhibiting symptoms of cardiac warming. Recommended: avert gaze or feign a sudden and intense need to recalibrate one's chakras in a dark, quiet location.]
"If you keep looking at me like that, Red," I teased, my voice low, "I'm going to start thinking you want more than just to break my sword."
She laughed. Again. Quietly. And I, with my broken jian, my patience in ruins, and my chest in a mess, allowed myself to laugh too. Yeah. Home. Even if a bit broken, mad, and in urgent need of a silencer. But beautiful all the same.
It was night when I finally managed to escape to the sanctuary of my room at Fairy Hills. The door closed with a soft click. Silence. The relief was almost physical. I went to the table near the window. I placed my broken jian there carefully, as if putting an old friend to bed. Beside it, a small vial of golden powder I took from my inventory. An ancient technique. Learned in some temple in some world that no longer exists. Similar to kintsugi. Cherish the scars. I sat on the edge of the bed, and inevitably, she came. The image of the redhead. The colour in her cheeks. The will in her eyes.
"Erza..." The word escaped, a sigh in the air. And, for a second, an uncomfortable warmth. Almost... beautiful.
[Alert: user in the process of falling in love. Initiating vehement denial protocol in 3... 2... 1...]
"Shut up." I threw myself onto the bed. I looked at the ceiling, as if it held the answers. "She's going to destroy me. One little piece at a time."
[...]
[Are you going to let her?]
"...Maybe." The silence that followed was good. And the jian, on the table, broken but not defeated, seemed to smile along with me.