Kids, go wild and enjoy yourselves!
The streets of Magnolia were alive with color. Brilliant lanterns hung at the doors of every home, laughter echoed from every corner, and massive floats rolled through the streets. Members of Fairy Tail, dressed in formal outfits, stood atop them, waving cheerfully to the crowd.
In just one night, the city's atmosphere had completely transformed.
Makarov, wearing a jester's hat and dressed in bright, garish colors, stood on one of the floats. Raising his right hand, he formed a gesture with his thumb and forefinger, calling out loudly to his guild.
"Ohhhhhh!!!"
The members of Fairy Tail raised their hands in unison, returning the same gesture—thumb and forefinger bent at ninety degrees—roaring back their response.
"Ara, ara, you lot are just the same as always!"
"Hm? Want to join us?"
"No, I still have work to do. I heard someone nearby was beaten half to death, then suddenly recovered. I'd like to investigate—it might inspire me for my next novel."
"Then see you around."
On Magnolia's bustling streets, passersby weren't surprised by the raucous celebrations. Fairy Tail was always lively and often hosted events like this.
The mayor, well aware of their fame and strength, usually turned a blind eye to their noise and use of public spaces.
And especially this time—after all, Phantom Lord had gone too far, taking the entire city hostage. If not for Fairy Tail's intervention, things would have ended in disaster. No one was going to complain about them throwing a celebration.
One passing, nameless novelist called out to the guild members who were dancing and celebrating in the streets. A few of them shouted back, inviting him to join. He politely declined and instead spoke of a strange rumor he had heard.
Meanwhile, in the underground library of the Fairy Tail guild…
Paipai sat reading, slowly flipping through one book after another. Sometimes he read at a leisurely pace, other times the pages flew by in a blur. His expression shifted between frowns and faint smiles. The only sound that filled the quiet library was the steady rustle of turning pages.
It was hard to imagine anyone could find joy in such dry, technical tomes of magic.
Tap… tap… tap…
Slow, heavy footsteps echoed.
"Old man, aren't you going to join the festivities?" Makarov descended with an oil lamp in hand, speaking softly.
The celebration wasn't just for Phantom Lord's defeat—it was also a welcome for Paipai. After six or seven years of distance, their bonds had grown unfamiliar. If they let such a pillar of strength drift away again, Makarov would have felt like a failed guild master.
"Festivities are fine, but they breed distraction. The power I can wield isn't at the same level as my true self, but even so—I must avoid such disturbances as much as possible." Paipai closed the book, and another floated off the shelf into his hand.
"I see…" Makarov scratched the back of his head awkwardly, smiling like a child caught misbehaving.
Paipai paid no mind and continued, "I understand what you're thinking."
Makarov's smile froze instantly, his words stuck. But before the silence grew too heavy, Paipai broke it himself:
"I won't leave Fairy Tail. That much you can be assured of. There's no need for you to deliberately curry favor with me. Treat me as you always have."
"To be honest, the you from six or seven years ago was more to my liking. Back then, your actions were more straightforward. Now you weigh them against many other considerations—but that's not a bad thing either. After all, this world isn't a fairy tale. It isn't full of pretty lies. Someone must face reality and become a harbor for others to return to."
Though Paipai's words seemed like praise, Makarov felt thoroughly exposed. Having your heart laid bare was never a pleasant experience.
The warmth and levity vanished from his face in an instant. In the flickering candlelight, the deep lines on his face twisted into something far harsher.
The flame wavered slightly, mirroring the unrest in his heart.
After a long silence, his voice came out hoarse and heavy.
"…Times have changed."
"That's why I said you're not doing badly," Paipai replied flatly, as if stating a simple fact.
"…Old man, there's something I want to ask you."
"Hm."
"Why would someone like you join a magic guild?" Makarov fixed his gaze on him, desperate for an answer. Once, he might not have cared, but after what he had witnessed—the overwhelming strength Paipai had revealed in the face of true crisis—he could no longer ignore the question.
He had seen it clearly: what left them powerless, Paipai could dismiss as a mere trifle.
With such strength, nothing in this world could restrain him. Nothing could bind him.
So why would a man like that deliberately seal away his power?
Was it just morality?
But four hundred years ago—an age of chaos, where humans and dragons lived side by side, and survival was uncertain—was there such a thing as morality?
A man who had lived for four centuries, who had witnessed countless rises and falls… could he truly be restrained by something as fragile as "morality"?
And why join a guild? Why become a nearly invisible, quiet background presence?
What was his true purpose? What drove him to choose this path?
Paipai closed the book with a soft snap and answered without hesitation:
"Instinct."
"…Instinct?" Makarov was dumbfounded, feeling as though he had been played with.
"Yes. It's not easy to explain. Just think of it as… a whim."
Makarov's expression dimmed. It wasn't the answer he had hoped for. Fairy Tail needed someone who saw the guild as family, a protector who would always stand by them—not a wanderer who could leave at any time.
Silence returned once more. Only the sound of turning pages remained. Paipai flipped quickly, closing one book only to open another, as though the content barely mattered.
Makarov quietly set down his oil lamp and sat opposite him. In the dim library, an unseeable figure and an old man shared the same table in wordless stillness.
It wasn't clear how much time passed before Makarov finally rose. "I'll take my leave."
Paipai gave no response. Only when Makarov was nearly out of sight did he speak, his voice calm:
"I bear no malice. None of my selves do. This guild… It's one of the few familiar things left to me in this world."
Makarov's steps faltered slightly. His back straightened, his posture firmer, and his stride lighter.
On his way out, he came across Mirajane, nervously fiddling with her skirt as she walked toward the library. She saw him first, forcing a relaxed smile.
"Ara, Master, just coming out of the library?"
"Yo, Mira. Shouldn't you be on stage right now, performing?" Instantly reverting to his playful old-man self, Makarov greeted her warmly. One hand stretched sneakily behind her back—but before he could act, she caught him mercilessly.
"Dame, Master."
"Fine, fine. The old man's down there—just don't disturb him." He reminded her before leaving.
Mirajane's expression froze for a moment, as though his words had struck a nerve.
O-of course I wouldn't.
Mhm.