Magnolia's streets had quieted under the veil of moonlight. The familiar buzz of evening chatter had given way to stillness. Most of the Fairy Tail members had already gone home—save for Mirajane, who had just finished tidying up the last of the scattered glasses and food platters at the bar.
Shinra offered to walk her home. She refused gently and after saying him good night, she went on her way.
Shinra remained outside the guild for a while, the breeze brushed through his silver-white hair as he gazed up at the moon, its light calm and unbothered.
A perfect night.
That was what made what came next feel so wrong.
---
The explosion shattered the silence like a war drum.
Shinra's senses flared—cursed energy bleeding just beneath his skin. He vanished from the wall in an instant, blinking forward in a near-Gojoesque blur.
But by the time he arrived at the guildhall again, it was already too late.
The building's front was torn open—splinters of wood scattered like bones. Iron rods embedded themselves deep into the structure's foundation. The massive Fairy Tail symbol above the entrance lay cracked, one half dangling dangerously from a bent metal rod.
Shinra muttered, "Gajeel Redfox."
A member of Phantom Lord.
Shinra eyes scanned the destruction—not out of shock, but calculation.
No casualties.
He had been a step too late to stop the attack---
---
By morning, the entire guild was gathered in front of the wreckage.
Gray's fist trembled.
Natsu was already halfway up the rubble before Erza ordered him back.
"What the hell was Phantom Lord thinking!?" Lucy shouted. "They just *attacked us!*"
Levy stared blankly at the destruction, her lips tight. Jet and Droy flanked her silently, equally grim.
"I'll *kill* them," Natsu growled.
"You won't," Makarov said quietly, stepping onto the scorched floor of the ruined guild.
Everyone turned.
Makarov didn't look angry. He looked tired.
"This is no time to act emotionally," the old Master muttered. "No one was hurt. That means it's not a declaration of war. It's just… noise. An attempt to rattle us."
"But Master—!" Gray began.
"I said we *will not* retaliate."
Everyone went silent.
Makarov looked to Shinra briefly. Their eyes met—and something passed between them. Trust. Concern. Restraint.
Shinra said nothing.
---
It happened the next night.
Levy, Jet, and Droy had just left the library, joking about old mission records and how many snacks they could charge to their tab this month.
They never made it home.
The next morning, Mira screamed.
She had been the one to find them.
Pinned against a wall behind the guild hall, nailed in place by iron rods driven through their clothes into the bark. Their bodies were bruised. Bloodied. Not dead—but broken.
Shinra arrived alongside Erza and Natsu—Erza helping lift Droy down, Natsu growling like a beast.
Levy had a black eye and her arms were covered in deep cuts.
But she was crying for another reason.
"They said… they said they were going to… *take Lucy next…*" she sobbed.
---
The silence that followed was heavier than thunder.
Inside the rebuilt front hall of the guild, Makarov stood with his fists clenched, his body trembling. His old hands—weathered from a hundred battles—seemed to quake with the weight of a decision he didn't want to make.
"This… was a personal attack," Erza said, her voice cold.
"They've declared war," Shinra added, his tone calm, but carrying a sharpened edge.
Makarov didn't speak.
He turned to a large drawer behind the bar—opened it slowly—and pulled out the faded war banner of Fairy Tail. The same one that hadn't been raised in years.
He set it on the table with a solid thump.
"We are Fairy Tail."
He looked up.
"And this is war."
---
That night, no one left the guild alone.
Natsu paced like a caged dragon, his magic already heating the room. Gray was sharpening his ice like it could cut Gajeel's throat from across town. Even Loke stopped flirting to quietly ask Lucy if she was okay.
Shinra didn't say much—but he stayed close to Lucy, and even closer to Mira, who sat outside with her knees tucked to her chest.
"She's blaming herself," Erza said, approaching him later.
"She shouldn't."
"She's too kind not to."
"I know."
Erza looked at him. "You've been… different lately. Softer. Not in a bad way."
He looked over at her. "You sound like Laxus."
She smirked faintly. "Except I don't think soft is weak."
Their eyes met.
No words passed—but something else did.
And nearby, Mira looked at them both.
She said nothing.
But she saw.