The morning at Fairy Tail began, as usual, with the sweet, comforting melody of chaos. It was a well-orchestrated symphony of shouts, occasional explosions, and the persistent smell of spilt ale. I, however, had found my own oasis of tranquility amidst the madhouse: a dark and relatively secluded corner of the guild, a steaming cup of black lotus tea in hand, and a wonderfully dark and educational book on my lap. The title, in ancient and slightly menacing runes, was "Fun and Creative Curses for Enemies and Noisy Neighbours, Volume 3". A light read to start the day.
The rest of the guild, in their infinite wisdom, had already learned to give me a generous amount of space during my morning reading moments. They would glance at me out of the corner of their eyes, with that mix of fear, curiosity, and a hint of revulsion, but most importantly, they didn't bother me. In my presence, even Natsu seemed to think twice before starting a food fight. It was almost... peaceful. Almost.
[Alert: prolonged reading of cursed grimoires of dubious origin may cause a variety of interesting side effects, including, but not limited to, spontaneous hair loss, explosion of internal organs within a five-metre radius, the development of a grumpy third eye, and a social reputation even worse than your already lamentable and deplorable current one,] Eos's voice, ever so helpful and full of useful information, sounded in my mind with her usual, irritating tone of clinical sarcasm. [I recommend regular breaks for hydration and, perhaps, reading something a little more... wholesome. Like an instruction manual for a household appliance, for example.]
(Eos, if I wanted a lecture on safe reading habits, I would have joined a book club with Levy,) I retorted mentally, rolling my eyes with a boredom that was almost an art form. I took another sip of my tea, savouring the subtle bitterness of the herb and the sweet, sweet irony of the situation. To them, it was a book of dark magic. To me, it was just... Tuesday.
The silence, or the closest Fairy Tail ever got to silence, was abruptly shattered by a high-pitched scream from the second floor, a scream that could only belong to a certain albino she-devil in a state of panic. Seconds later, Mirajane appeared at the top of the stairs, her usually calm and composed face now a mask of pure, absolute horror, as if she had just seen Natsu attempting to cook.
"MASTER! MASTER, A DISASTER! A CATASTROPHE!" she shouted, rushing down the stairs, her blue eyes wide with panic. "ONE OF THE S-CLASS MISSIONS... IT'S GONE FROM THE BOARD!"
Makarov, who until then had been sitting peacefully on a stool at the bar, savouring a tankard of wine with the serenity of a monk, nearly choked to death on his own drink.
"W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'GONE'?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY 'GONE'?! I'M HAVING A STROKE, GIRL! MY HEART! MY BLOOD PRESSURE!" he shouted, his eyes bulging from their sockets, the wine tankard falling from his trembling hand and splashing on the floor in a red puddle that looked like blood. Dramatic. As always.
I, on the other hand, just took another calm sip of my tea, showing not the slightest surprise. After all, in a guild with so many idiots with an excess of confidence and a chronic lack of common sense, it was only a matter of time.
It was then that an arrogant laugh, charged with static electricity and pure, crystalline mockery, echoed from the top of the second floor. Laxus Dreyar, the Master's problematic grandson, emerged from the shadows, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a smug smile plastered on his face, as if he were watching the best comedy of the year.
He drawled, with a calm that only made everything more irritating:
"Relax, you drama queens. I saw a certain, stupid, flying blue cat sneaking around up here last night... and taking something that looked a lot like a mission from the forbidden board."
The entire guild, which was already on alert, now fell into a shocked silence. The revelation hung in the air like the smell of a fart in a crowded lift.
Mirajane, recovering from the initial shock, placed her hands on her hips with a fury that made her demonic power leak out subtly for an instant, her blue eyes sparking dangerously.
"And why, in all the hells, did you do absolutely NOTHING to stop him, Laxus?!"
He just shrugged, with an expression of total and complete indifference that was the very personification of bare-faced cheek. "Well, my dear Mira, how was I to know it was *our* stupid, flying blue cat? I didn't know it was Happy. It could have been any other flying blue cat, couldn't it? They're quite common around here, in the exotic fauna of Fiore…" His voice dripped with a sarcasm so thick you could build a bridge with it.
I rolled my eyes mentally. (Yes, of course, Laxus. As common as dragons begging for change. Idiot.)
Makarov, now a shade of red that rivalled Erza's hair, looked like he was about to genuinely explode. He began to tear out the few strands of hair he still had left, his face contorted in a mask of pure agony.
"IT'S THE END! THE END OF MY SANITY! THE END OF MY PEACE! THOSE BRATS ARE GOING TO KILL ME!"
With a calm that contrasted beautifully with the pandemonium around me, I closed my book of curses with a soft click and commented, to no one in particular, in a dry, resigned tone:
"Well… at least, and this is a refreshing novelty, it wasn't me this time."
Mira shot me a look that clearly said "you're not helping", while she already seemed to be mentally calculating the cost of the repairs for the inevitable destruction that would follow. And Laxus? Ah, Laxus. He just roared with laughter at the chaos he had helped to create, the sound of his arrogant laugh echoing through the guild. What a productive morning.
Makarov was so red that I honestly thought he was going to spontaneously combust. The vein on his forehead was throbbing as if it were trying to break free from his skull and strangle someone. Probably his grandson.
"LAXUS! YOU SMUG GOOD-FOR-NOTHING! GO AFTER THEM AND BRING THEM BACK, NOW!" the Master roared, pointing a trembling finger as if excommunicating his own, disappointing heir.
Laxus gave a dramatic sigh, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if the mere act of existing were an unbearable burden for his broad shoulders. (Spoiler: he's just lazy and self-centred).
"Oh, come on, old man. It's not my problem. They're big boys now. If that pink-haired idiot and his little friends want to get themselves killed on some cursed island to prove they're strong, that's their lookout. It's natural selection in action."
The entire guild held its breath collectively. To speak to the Master like that was... bold. And stupid. Makarov looked like he was about to gain three blood pressure levels at once. I, personally, was already discreetly considering starting a betting pool on how many seconds he would last before dropping dead on the floor.
"YOU—! YOU... YOU INSOLENT WHELP…!" the Master trembled with pure rage, but with a superhuman effort, he held back, swallowing the creative swear word that would probably have burned the ears of the guild's little ones and made even Cana blush. "Very well! Mirajane! You go! Call Erza as well! You're the only ones who can handle Natsu's stupidity and sort this mess out before he starts a war or something of the sort!"
Mirajane's eyes widened, clearly surprised by the sudden order. But before she could even formulate a response, a calm, cold voice cut through the hall like a blade of ice.
"I disagree."
Everyone, like a mob of startled meerkats, turned their heads towards the voice. Gray. He was standing there, in his typical pose of 'I'm too cool to wear a shirt and I don't feel the cold, even if it's snowing', only this time, his gaze was surprisingly serious and determined.
"Master, with all due respect, but I don't think Mirajane and Erza are the only ones capable of handling that matchstick-head. I can go. I can sort this mess out."
The silence that followed his audacious declaration was almost comical in its intensity. Even Eos, in her infinite digital wisdom, decided to open her virtual mouth inside my mind:
[Alert: testosterone and male rivalry levels rising dangerously in the environment. The atmosphere is charged with a mixture of wounded pride, juvenile defiance, and a high probability of further property destruction. Recommendation: medical intervention, a very cold bucket of water, or alternatively, just get more tea and enjoy the show.]
I took another sip of my tea, masterfully pretending that I wasn't finding this whole scene a theatrical spectacle worthy of the multiverse's greatest playwrights.
Makarov narrowed his eyes at Gray, assessing him with an expression that was a mix of irritation and mild curiosity. Mirajane blinked at him, surprised and perhaps a little... amused by the ice mage's boldness. And Laxus, from upstairs, let out a laugh laden with a sarcasm so thick you could feel it.
And I… well, I just closed my book of curses with a soft click, crossed my legs elegantly, and thought, with a secret satisfaction:
(There we go. The circus is officially in town. Popcorn, please?)
Makarov stroked his white moustache, still huffing with anger like a small, furious dragon. He looked at Gray, who maintained a defiant posture. Then at Mirajane, who seemed to be immensely enjoying the drama. And then he sighed, the sigh of a man who had already foreseen the apocalypse, the paperwork, and the repair bills to come.
"I don't know... Whenever Natsu and Gray are in the same place, the result is invariably the same: entire towns with destroyed properties and a hole the size of a mansion in my already-battered pocket!"
The entire guild murmured in grim, experienced agreement. I just nodded mentally, remembering with a certain nostalgia the last, memorable incident in which those two, in their infinite wisdom, nearly turned a quiet, innocent bakery into a smoking crater.
It was then, in that moment of deliberation and desperation, that the Master's tired gaze wandered aimlessly through the hall… and landed, like a hungry falcon spotting a distracted rabbit, directly on me. Me, who had been so quiet, so minding my own business, just drinking my tea and pretending, with a natural talent, that none of this had anything to do with me. Damn it.
"AZRA'IL!" his voice echoed through the guild like the thunder of a very, very angry god.
I choked on my precious lotus tea. (…What?! Why me?!)
"You're going with them! I want you to accompany Gray and keep an eye on those two numpties! And on Lucy, who has surely been dragged into this madness by now!" His logic was, unfortunately, impeccable.
"Me?! But Master, with all due and deserved respect for your authority and for your impressive moustache..." I raised a hand lazily, without bothering to get up from my comfortable chair. "...I am not a babysitter. I am an S-Class mage, with an imaginary degree in sarcasm and a doctorate in procrastination. My job is not, and never has been, to stop those two walking disasters from blowing up small village houses as if they were poorly calculated fireworks at a New Year's party."
"Well from now on, it is!" Makarov slammed his hand on the counter with a force that made the windows tremble, the vein on his forehead now pulsating with a threatening life of its own. "Get going, Azra'il! And keep an eye on them! I DO NOT WANT TO RECEIVE ANOTHER BILL FOR THE RECONSTRUCTION OF AN ENTIRE TOWN THIS MONTH!"
I sighed loudly, dramatically, resting my head on my hand with an air of deep, existential suffering. "…But why me, Master? Send Laxus. He's just hanging around up there, with all that free time and an unconditional love for playing the superior one and judging others. He'd love the opportunity to rub their incompetence in everyone's faces."
Laxus, from upstairs, laughed heartily, clearly enjoying my impending doom immensely. "Good luck with the nursery, princess. I'll pass. I have more important things to do. Like, for example, breathing."
I closed my eyes for a brief, painful instant, searching for strength, patience, and perhaps the location of the nearest black hole in my teacup, which, to my sorrow, was already almost empty. And, of course, Eos, that sadist, didn't miss the chance to comment.
[Warning: new mission detected. Title: 'Operation Walking Disaster Babysitter'. Danger level to the targets: 90%. Level of inconvenience and irritation to the user: 200%, with a margin of error for more. System's logical suggestion: immediate and silent escape to another country. Or, alternatively, feigning a sudden and prolonged faint. It works 78% of the time.]
(See, Master? Even my system, which is a cold, heartless AI, thinks this is a terrible, dreadful, and wholly inadequate idea,) I grumbled mentally, in one last, futile appeal to reason.
"AZRA'IL!" Makarov roared again, and this time, I knew, there was no escape. Duty (and emotional blackmail) was calling.
With the resignation of a condemned man on his way to the gallows, I stood up slowly, stretching my arms with all the laziness and drama I could muster in my being. "…Alright, alright. I'll go. But let it be recorded in the guild's annals that I was coerced. And, if by some chance they manage, somehow, to destroy an entire town, don't blame me. I'll just be there to observe, to laugh, and to say 'I told you so'."
The Master sighed with relief, as if a hundred-tonne weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Gray puffed out his chest, with a very serious air of "now the mission is in good hands". And I… I could only think about how much I was going to regret leaving my comfortable armchair and my warm tea, just to become the reluctant babysitter of two of the biggest walking disasters on the entire continent. My life was a true tragedy. A very, very amusing tragedy to observe, but a tragedy nonetheless.