Prologue – The Cursed Child
The smoke reached Makarov's nose long before the village came into view.
He tightened his grip on his staff and kept walking, boots crunching in damp earth. The forest was too quiet — no birds, no crickets, no wind through the leaves. Just the smoke, rolling in heavy coils, and the faint metallic taste of blood on the air.
Fairy Tail didn't have many dealings this far out, on the edge of Fiore's northern borders, but Makarov had heard the rumors: a dark guild had been raiding outlying towns, leaving nothing but ashes behind. His father, guildmaster at the time, had ordered him to check.
He hadn't expected to find… this.
The village wasn't just burned. It was carved apart. Houses split cleanly in two as though by invisible blades. Stone walls gouged with deep lines. The ground itself was cut, neat furrows crossing the dirt roads like a giant had slashed through it with a blade the size of a mountain.
And the people… Makarov swallowed hard. There weren't many bodies. Just fragments.
Something had torn this place apart with surgical precision.
He kept walking, forcing himself not to stop, not to let his legs tremble. He was a Fairy Tail mage. He had to see if anyone survived.
That's when he heard it.
A sound too soft for the ruined silence: humming. Childlike, almost tuneless, drifting on the smoke.
Makarov followed the sound to the village square.
There, sitting on the broken remains of a fountain, was a boy.
No older than seven. His bare feet dangled above the ash, his small hands folded in his lap. On his skin glowed black-red markings, curling like chains up his arms and neck. They writhed faintly, alive, pulsing with every heartbeat. His eyes — gods above — were the color of fresh blood, sharp and unblinking.
Around him, shadows moved where they shouldn't. They rose from the ground like liquid, taking shape: wolves with fangs of black fire, serpents coiling and uncoiling, a bird with wings too wide for the square. They circled him protectively, their gazes fixing on Makarov.
The boy stopped humming. He looked up, tilting his head, and his smile was too sharp for a child.
"…You're not one of them."
Makarov tightened his grip on his staff. "One of who?"
"The ones who killed my village." The boy's voice was calm, almost flat. He pointed to the ruins with one small finger. "They came here in the night. Dark mages. They laughed while they burned everything. They thought I was weak."
The shadows stirred, restless, as the boy's markings glowed brighter. His crimson eyes locked onto Makarov.
"So I killed them."
Makarov's heart clenched. He looked at the precise cuts in stone, the scattered remains. This boy — no, this child — had done all this.
But the boy wasn't finished. He lowered his hand, staring at the ash at his feet. "I killed them… and everyone else. I couldn't stop it. The shadows… they don't care who they bite."
The serpent at his side hissed, as if to agree.
Silence fell between them.
Makarov could feel the power radiating from him, raw and violent, like a beast straining against its leash. He should have been terrified. Part of him was. But deeper still, he felt something else: sorrow. No child should carry that weight in their eyes.
"What's your name, boy?" he asked gently.
The boy hesitated. The markings on his arms flared, and his jaw tightened. It was as though something inside him resisted the question. Finally, he whispered:
"Ryo."
Makarov nodded. He planted his staff firmly in the ground, summoning every ounce of steadiness in his voice. "Listen to me, Ryo. I don't know what power you carry, or what curse follows you. But I do know this — no one should have to carry it alone. Come with me. To Fairy Tail. You'll find family there."
The shadows hissed, swirling higher, the wolf snapping its jaws. For a moment, Makarov thought the boy would attack him.
Ryo's lips curved in a cruel little smile. "Family? If I lose control, if I cut one of them apart like I did here… that'll be your fault."
Makarov's throat was dry, but he forced a smile. "Then I'll bear it. Because I'd rather take that risk than leave a child like you to be swallowed by the dark."
The markings pulsed, and for a long, terrible moment, the shadows loomed higher, beasts ready to strike.
Then, slowly, they sank back into the boy's own shadow. The glow dimmed on his skin. His eyes dulled from burning scarlet to a calmer red.
"…Fine," Ryo whispered. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
Makarov stepped forward and held out his hand. After a long hesitation, the boy placed his small, trembling hand in it.
Together, they walked out of the ruins.
And when they reached Fairy Tail, the guild would never be the same again.
Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Walked into Fairy Tail
(Part 1)
Magnolia smelled different from anywhere Ryo had ever been.
The air was alive here. Baked bread drifted from the stalls, mixed with the sharp tang of fresh fruit, the smoke of blacksmith forges, the perfume of flowers being sold on the corners. Voices overlapped everywhere—merchants shouting deals, children laughing, dogs barking. The whole city pulsed like a heart.
Ryo didn't like it.
The noise was too much, too bright, too alive. After the silence of burned ruins, every shout felt like a slap against his skull. He kept close to Makarov, his small hand gripping the hem of the old man's cloak, crimson eyes darting at every face that turned to look at him.
And many did look.
He knew why. The marks on his skin wouldn't fade, no matter how hard he tried to will them still. Black-red chains twisted faintly around his arms and neck, pulsing with his heartbeat. Whenever someone's gaze lingered too long, the shadows at his feet stirred, twitching like snakes ready to strike.
"Stay calm, boy," Makarov murmured without looking down at him. "They're just curious."
Ryo pressed his lips into a thin line. Curious wasn't the word. He'd seen curiosity in people's eyes before, back in his village. That curiosity had turned to fear, then hatred. Then fire.
He said nothing.
Magnolia was bigger than any place he had ever seen. The streets opened into plazas, bridges stretched over canals, the cathedral towered in the distance with bells that rang clear over the chaos. People moved with purpose, laughter and arguments mixing in the air. To Ryo, it all felt like another world.
And at the edge of that world, looming tall over the riverbank, stood a building.
Wood and stone, three floors high, the doors wide open. A giant symbol stretched across the front—stylized, proud, painted in red: the emblem of Fairy Tail.
The guild hall.
Ryo stopped walking. His shadows bristled at his feet, and the markings along his arms glowed faintly.
Makarov glanced back. "What is it?"
"…It's loud," Ryo muttered.
The guild was roaring with life. Even from outside, the noise poured out—shouts, laughter, a crash of breaking wood followed by more laughter. To Ryo, it sounded like chaos.
Makarov smiled faintly. "That's Fairy Tail for you." He crouched down, looking Ryo in the eyes. His expression was softer than the boy expected. "I won't force you, lad. But if you want a place to belong, you'll find it inside those doors."
Ryo looked at the emblem again. Belonging. The word felt strange, almost bitter. Belonging was something he'd never had, something that had been burned out of him the night the shadows first tore through his village.
And yet…
His fingers flexed. He remembered the ruins. The silence. The smell of blood and smoke. He didn't want to go back to that.
He swallowed, hard. "…Fine."
The shadows receded slightly. His marks dimmed. And together, they stepped through the doors.
⸻
The guild hall was… overwhelming.
Tables filled the room, crowded with mages eating, drinking, shouting. Some were arm-wrestling. Others were throwing dice. Two men were brawling in the corner while their friends cheered them on. A woman sat on the counter, laughing loudly at something the bartender had said.
It was chaos.
And the moment Ryo stepped inside, the chaos slowed.
Dozens of eyes turned toward him. Conversations faltered. Laughter quieted. The brawlers froze mid-swing. The child with the cursed markings stood in the doorway, shadows flickering at his feet like black fire, eyes glowing faintly red under the lantern light.
Whispers started immediately.
"…What's with that kid?"
"…Those marks… they're moving."
"…I can feel the magic from here. It's wrong."
Ryo's jaw clenched. His nails dug into his palms. He hated those whispers. He knew what came next—fear, disgust, hatred. Always the same.
But before it could swell, Makarov stepped forward.
"Listen up!" His voice carried like a crack of thunder, silencing the room. "This boy is Ryo. From today, he's one of us. A mage of Fairy Tail."
The silence that followed was heavy. Ryo felt every stare pressing down on him.
A chair scraped. One of the older mages, a man with a scar across his cheek, stood. "Master, with all respect—look at him. That's no ordinary child. Those markings… that's cursed magic if I've ever seen it."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
Ryo's shadows stirred, stretching higher, jaws and claws taking shape. His crimson eyes narrowed, lips curling into a bitter smile. Here it comes. They'll hate me. They'll drive me out. Just like before.
But Makarov didn't falter. He planted his staff firmly on the floor. "You're right. He is dangerous."
The room stilled. Even Ryo froze, shadows twitching uncertainly.
Makarov's gaze swept over the guild, hard as steel. "But Fairy Tail isn't about turning away those in need. It's about giving people a place to stand, no matter who they are. This boy has nowhere else. And I'll be damned before I let him be swallowed by darkness."
He turned, meeting Ryo's wide eyes. "From this day on, he's family. And family doesn't turn its back."
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, slowly, a few mages nodded. Some grumbled, uneasy but unwilling to argue further. The scarred man sat back down, still watching warily.
The noise of the hall began to return, cautious at first, then louder. A brawl reignited in the corner. Someone laughed too loudly at a joke. The guild shifted back into its chaos, but Ryo could still feel the stares, the wariness.
His shadows curled tighter at his feet, restless.
"…Family," he muttered under his breath. The word didn't sit right. Not yet.
But for the first time, he didn't hear hatred in the whispers. Just… uncertainty.
And that was something.
⸻
Ryo stayed close to Makarov as they crossed the hall. The old man spoke with the bartender, a broad-shouldered man named Wakaba who looked at Ryo with a mix of curiosity and concern. Others gave the boy a wide berth.
A girl peeked out from behind a pillar—young, maybe six, with short brown hair and bright eyes. She was clutching a stack of cards to her chest. Ryo's gaze flicked to her, and she squeaked, vanishing back behind the wood.
Makarov chuckled. "That's Cana. Don't mind her—she's shy around new people."
Ryo didn't reply.
The night stretched on. Introductions were made, though most were awkward. Ryo kept his answers short, his shadows flickering at every stray glance. Eventually, Makarov showed him to a small room upstairs. A bed, a desk, a window that looked out over the river.
Ryo sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. The markings pulsed faintly in the lamplight, alive, whispering.
They don't want you here.
You're not family. You're a blade. A curse. A monster.
His jaw tightened. He pressed his palms into his eyes, willing the voice away. But it always came back.
The door creaked open.
"You settling in?" Makarov asked gently.
Ryo looked up, startled. He hadn't noticed the man approach. "…It's too quiet."
Makarov smiled faintly. "You'll get used to it. Or you'll get used to the noise downstairs, one of the two."
Ryo hesitated. "…Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why bring me here? You saw what I did. What I am."
The old man stepped inside, leaning on his staff. His eyes were steady, kind but firm. "Because everyone deserves a chance, Ryo. Even those with shadows. Especially those with shadows."
For a long time, Ryo said nothing. The marks pulsed faintly, the voice in his head laughing. But he didn't answer it.
He just lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and whispered, "We'll see."
Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Walked into Fairy Tail
(Part 2)
The next morning, the guild hall felt no warmer.
Ryo sat at a corner table, untouched food in front of him. The noise of the guild pressed against him like waves, laughter and brawls rolling together in endless rhythm. Every time he lifted his head, he caught someone staring, only for them to glance away the moment his crimson eyes met theirs.
Whispers followed him like gnats.
"…Does he even eat?"
"…Never seen a kid look like that."
"…I heard he killed an entire village—"
The shadows curled under his chair, restless. Ryo pressed a hand against his thigh, forcing them down. If he let them out, even for a moment, someone would bleed.
"Ryo."
He looked up. Makarov stood at the end of the table, arms crossed. The guildmaster's gaze was sharp, but not unkind.
"Come with me."
⸻
The training yard behind the guild was quiet, only the sound of birds and river water nearby. Here, the air didn't feel as heavy.
Makarov planted his staff in the dirt. "You're strong, boy. I don't need to tell you that. Anyone who looks at you can feel it. But strength without control is a danger—to you and everyone around you."
Ryo's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask for this."
"No. You didn't. But you have it. Which means you've got a choice: let it use you, or learn to use it."
The shadows stirred, whispering laughter. Ryo ignored them.
"What if I don't want either?" he muttered.
"Then you'll hurt people without meaning to." Makarov's gaze softened, but his voice stayed firm. "That's why you won't be taking jobs with the others. Not yet. Until you learn to control yourself, your training comes first."
The words stung, sharper than he expected. Not because he wanted jobs—he didn't care about money or missions. But it felt like a cage. Like the villagers again, telling him he wasn't safe, wasn't normal, wasn't wanted.
His teeth clenched. "…So I'm just a weapon you'll keep locked away."
Makarov's eyes hardened. "No. You're a boy who's been through hell. And I'll be damned if I let you become nothing more than a blade."
The words sank into Ryo's chest, heavy and confusing. He didn't know whether to scoff or believe them.
"…Fine," he said finally. "Training."
Makarov nodded. "Good. Then let's start."
⸻
Days passed.
Training meant long hours in the yard—learning to breathe, to channel his energy without letting it leak out in wild bursts. It meant Makarov forcing him to meditate, to summon the shadows only when commanded.
Sometimes, Ryo succeeded. The wolves would rise, sleek and controlled, their jaws snapping at invisible prey.
Other times, the shadows fought him, thrashing in a frenzy, tearing gouges into the ground until Makarov's magic forced them back down.
"Again," the old man would say, sweat on his brow. "You're the master, not the beast."
At night, Ryo lay awake in his small room, the voice whispering in his skull.
He's lying to you. You'll never belong here. One day, you'll cut them down. Cleave. Dismantle. That's all you are.
He pressed his hands over his ears. It never stopped.
⸻
Inside the guild, things weren't much easier.
The older mages kept their distance, some openly suspicious. The scarred man from the first night—Kordan—watched him like a hawk. Ryo didn't mind; he preferred the silence.
But the kids were harder to ignore.
One afternoon, while he sat at his corner table, the shy girl from before shuffled up to him. Cana. She held a card between her fingers, chewing her lip.
"…Hi."
Ryo blinked. "…Hi."
She hesitated, then held out the card. "Wanna play?"
He stared at it. The card was harmless, bright and colorful. Nothing like the blood and ash that filled his memories. "…Why?"
Cana tilted her head. "Because you look lonely."
The shadows twitched. His chest tightened. He didn't know how to answer. So he shook his head. "…No."
Her face fell, but she nodded, retreating without another word.
Ryo's hand twitched after her, but he didn't stop her.
⸻
Not everyone was gentle.
Two days later, a group of rowdy mages cornered him near the training yard. They were young adults, cocky, with too much time between jobs.
"Well, if it isn't the master's little pet," one sneered. "What's it like, kid? Sitting pretty while the rest of us do real work?"
Ryo said nothing. He tried to walk past, but another blocked his way.
"Don't ignore us." The man's grin widened. "Show us those tricks of yours. Or are the rumors true—you can't control it?"
The shadows stirred, rising higher. Ryo clenched his fists, nails digging into his skin.
"Leave me alone," he warned. His voice was low, sharp.
"Ooh, scary." The mage leaned in close. "What're you gonna do? Kill us, like you killed your village?"
The world tilted. Blood. Fire. Screams.
Ryo's vision went red.
The shadows surged, wolves snapping, snakes coiling, blades forming in the air. For an instant, the mages' laughter turned to fear. One step closer, and they'd have been torn apart.
"Enough!"
Makarov's voice cracked like thunder. Magic flared, crushing the shadows back into the ground. Ryo staggered, chest heaving, eyes wide.
The mages scrambled back, pale. "M-Master, we were just—"
"Out!" Makarov barked. "All of you!"
They fled, leaving Ryo trembling in the dirt.
The old man turned to him, face stern. "I told you, boy. You must control it."
Ryo's hands shook. "…I can't."
"Yes, you can. You must." Makarov knelt, gripping his shoulder. "You are not a monster, Ryo. Remember that. If you forget, the shadows will win."
For a long moment, Ryo couldn't speak. His throat burned. His vision blurred.
Finally, he whispered, "I don't know if I believe you."
Makarov's expression softened. "Then believe in me, until you can believe in yourself."
⸻
That night, Ryo sat alone in his room again. The whispers returned, cruel and mocking.
They're afraid of you. They should be. One day, they'll turn on you. Better to strike first. Cleave. Dismantle. Kill.
Ryo dug his nails into his arms until the skin broke. Blood dripped onto the floor, mixing with the markings. His shadows licked at it hungrily.
But through the noise, he remembered Makarov's voice.
Believe in me, until you can believe in yourself.
He closed his eyes. For once, the voice in his head quieted.
And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wasn't alone.
Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Walked into Fairy Tail
(Part 3)
Time in Fairy Tail passed strangely.
For Ryo, each day blurred into training and whispers. Makarov pushed him hard—hours spent calling forth his shadows, hours spent strangling them back down. His body ached every night, his mind burned from the effort. And still, the voice laughed in his skull, mocking every failure.
But slowly, the guild began to shift.
The whispers didn't vanish, but they softened. People stopped staring so openly. Some even greeted him, cautious nods or muttered hellos. They weren't friends. Not yet. But they weren't enemies either.
Not everyone adjusted.
⸻
Laxus hated him.
Ryo didn't need words to know it; the boy's glare said enough. Laxus was only a little older, blond hair wild, lightning sparking faintly whenever he was upset—which was often.
He sat at the center of things, other kids hovering near him. Ryo avoided them, but it didn't matter; Laxus sought him out.
"You think you're special," he snapped one afternoon, blocking Ryo's path in the hall. "Master spends all his time training you. What makes you so important?"
Ryo stopped. Shadows stirred faintly at his feet. "…I didn't ask him to."
"Liar. You love it." Laxus's fists clenched, electricity buzzing faintly. "I'm his grandson, not you. If anyone deserves training, it's me."
Ryo's crimson eyes narrowed. "Then ask him yourself."
The words were simple, but they cut. Laxus's face twisted, his pride flaring. For a moment, Ryo thought he would attack. The shadows tensed, ready to meet him.
But Makarov's voice rang out from the stairs. "That's enough, both of you!"
Laxus stiffened, storming off with a scowl. Sparks trailed in his wake.
Ryo watched him go, jaw tight. He didn't care about Laxus. He didn't care about training. But the hostility burned, echoing in his chest like an old wound.
They'll never accept you. Not even family. You'll always be alone.
The voice was smug. He wanted to tear it out of his skull.
⸻
That evening, while the guild roared with noise, Cana approached him again.
Ryo sat in his usual corner, staring at the untouched plate of food in front of him. The girl shuffled closer, holding a small deck of cards.
"…You still don't eat much, huh?" she said softly.
Ryo glanced at her. "…Not hungry."
"Master says food makes you stronger." She tilted her head, trying a smile. "You like being strong, don't you?"
He didn't answer.
She slid a card across the table toward him. "This one's my favorite. Look—it's the Queen of Hearts. She's really strong, but also kind. Wanna see if you can pull one stronger?"
Ryo hesitated. The card was harmless. Bright. Human.
Slowly, he reached out, taking it between his fingers. The moment he touched it, his shadows flickered, brushing over the paper. The Queen of Hearts darkened, shadows swirling until the face looked sharper, crueler.
Cana gasped. "Whoa… you changed it!"
Ryo frowned. "…I didn't mean to."
"It's still cool." Her smile was genuine this time. "Wanna try another?"
For the first time, Ryo didn't refuse. He drew a card. The Ace of Spades. The shadows curled around it, making the spade gleam like a blade.
Cana clapped her hands. "See? You're not scary. You're just different."
The words hit harder than he expected. Not scary. Just different.
He didn't smile. But something in his chest eased, just a little.
⸻
The warmth didn't last.
Later that week, Ryo sat in the training yard, exhausted, sweat dripping down his face. Makarov had pushed him until his limbs trembled, then left him to meditate.
That was when the scarred mage, Kordan, appeared.
"You shouldn't be here," the man said flatly. "The guild's no place for someone like you."
Ryo's eyes narrowed. "…Makarov says different."
Kordan snorted. "Makarov sees what he wants. The rest of us see what's real. You're a curse waiting to explode. One day, you'll snap—and when you do, people will die."
The shadows stirred, responding to his anger. Ryo clenched his fists, fighting to hold them down. "Then stay away from me."
"That's the problem, boy." Kordan's gaze was cold. "Curses don't keep to themselves."
He turned and walked away, leaving Ryo shaking, breath ragged.
He's right, the voice whispered. One day, you'll snap. Why wait? Tear him apart now. Cleave. Dismantle.
Ryo pressed his palms into the dirt, choking on fury. He wanted to. He wanted to silence them all.
But through the storm, he remembered Cana's voice.
You're not scary. You're just different.
The shadows stilled. Just enough.
⸻
That night, something strange happened.
The guild was louder than usual, laughter echoing after a long day of successful jobs. Cana tugged at his sleeve, dragging him toward a group of kids daring each other to climb onto the bar counter and shout something embarrassing.
Ryo resisted at first, scowling. But Cana's hand was firm, and the others egged him on.
"Come on, new kid!" someone jeered. "Don't be a ghost all the time!"
Ryo's jaw clenched. The shadows flickered. But when Cana looked up at him with wide eyes, smiling, something cracked.
For once, he didn't hear the voice in his head.
He climbed onto the counter. The room fell quiet, watching. His shadows bristled, stretching tall around him, more instinct than control.
And then, in a flat, cold voice, he said, "You're all too loud."
Silence.
Then laughter erupted, rolling through the hall like thunder. Not cruel laughter—real, genuine amusement. Even Makarov chuckled into his beard.
Ryo blinked, startled. Heat crept into his face. He jumped down quickly, scowling, but Cana beamed up at him.
"See? You can make them laugh."
He muttered under his breath, "Wasn't trying to."
But for the first time since he walked through Fairy Tail's doors, the whispers didn't sound so heavy.
Chapter 1 – The Boy Who Walked into Fairy Tail
(Part 4)
The days grew longer, and with them, the shadows inside Ryo.
Makarov had begun pushing harder in training. Where before he'd asked for restraint, now he demanded control under pressure. The old man summoned dummies of wood and straw, warded against damage, and ordered Ryo to attack.
"Not wild," Makarov barked as the shadows lashed too far, tearing into the earth. "Precise. One strike where you mean it—no more, no less!"
Ryo's chest heaved. The markings burned along his skin, hot as fire. He raised his hand, and the air split.
Cleave.
The dummy was sliced in half, the cut cleaner than any blade.
Ryo gasped, clutching his arm as the shadows trembled, eager to lash out again. The voice laughed, hungry for more.
Makarov steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. "That's it. You see? You're not a beast swinging blindly. You can choose."
Ryo shook, sweat dripping down his face. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to.
But part of him whispered it wasn't enough.
⸻
Later, in the guild hall, whispers spread about a dark guild operating nearby. Several mages gathered to take the job. Ryo listened from his corner, shadows stirring at the mention of "dark guild."
He remembered flames. Screams.
He stood.
"I'll go."
The hall fell quiet. Dozens of eyes turned to him.
"You?" one mage scoffed. "You're not even allowed on jobs."
"I can fight," Ryo said, voice low.
The scarred man, Kordan, sneered. "That's the problem. You don't fight—you destroy. We're not risking you snapping on us, boy."
The whispers rose again. Fear. Distrust.
Before Ryo could answer, Makarov's staff slammed into the floor. "Enough! He's not ready for jobs, but he is ready for trust."
He turned to Ryo, eyes sharp. "Not a mission. A test. Come with me tomorrow. You'll show me if you're learning control."
Ryo's shadows bristled, but he forced them still. "…Fine."
⸻
The test came at dawn.
Makarov led him into the woods, far from Magnolia. They stopped at a clearing where a small pack of wild wolves prowled. Normal animals, but aggressive, snarling at the scent of intruders.
"You will subdue them," Makarov said. "But without killing. Control, Ryo. Show me you can fight without giving in."
Ryo's chest tightened. The wolves bared their teeth, and his shadows stirred eagerly. They wanted blood.
Kill. Tear. Feed.
"No," he hissed under his breath. He raised his hand. Shadows poured forth—snakes coiling, wolves answering the call. The wild animals lunged.
The clash was chaos. Snarls and yelps, shadows snapping jaws shut inches from throats. Ryo strained, forcing them to hold, to restrain instead of kill. His head pounded. His vision blurred.
One wolf leapt past, teeth flashing for his arm. Instinct screamed—Cleave. The word burned on his tongue.
But he bit it back.
Instead, a shadow-hand snapped out, slamming the wolf into the dirt without breaking bone.
Silence fell.
The pack, cowed, scattered into the forest. The shadows writhed, furious, begging for blood. But Ryo clenched his fists, forcing them down until the clearing was still.
He dropped to his knees, gasping.
Makarov's hand rested on his shoulder. The old man smiled, proud. "Well done, boy. That's control."
Ryo trembled. For once, the voice in his skull was quiet.
⸻
Word of the test spread quickly. Some were impressed. Others doubted it meant anything. But whispers softened again.
Not everyone was pleased.
Laxus confronted him that night, sparks crackling in the dim hall.
"You think one trick makes you better?" His glare burned hotter than the lightning around him. "You'll never be real Fairy Tail."
Ryo met his gaze, tired but firm. "…Then stop worrying about me."
The words only enraged Laxus further. He raised a fist, lightning sparking dangerously. Ryo's shadows stirred, answering the challenge.
For an instant, it felt inevitable—blood and thunder.
But Ryo froze. He remembered the wolves. The choice he'd made. Slowly, he let the shadows sink back into the floor.
"…I don't need to fight you," he said, voice low.
Laxus blinked, thrown off by the restraint. For once, he had no retort. He stormed away, sparks fading behind him.
Ryo exhaled shakily, the voice in his skull hissing. Coward. But he ignored it.
⸻
Later, as the guild quieted, Cana found him again.
She dropped a card onto the table—the Queen of Hearts, shadows still faintly etched into its face.
"Wanna play again?" she asked.
Ryo hesitated. "…Why do you keep bothering me?"
She shrugged. "Because you don't smile enough."
He stared at her. "…Maybe I don't want to smile."
"Then I'll make you." She grinned, shuffling her deck. "Bet I win this time."
For the first time, Ryo almost laughed. Almost.
They played until the candles burned low. Cana giggled whenever he accidentally warped a card with his shadows, calling it "cheating magic." And though he never smiled fully, the tightness in his chest loosened.
⸻
That night, lying in his bed, Ryo stared at the ceiling.
He remembered the ruins. The fire. The whispers of curses. He remembered Makarov's steady hand, Cana's bright smile, the laughter of the guild when he'd stood on the counter.
Maybe they don't hate me. Not all of them.
The voice in his head snarled. They'll turn on you. They always do.
Ryo closed his eyes. For the first time, he didn't answer it.
And as sleep took him, the shadows curled close—not like chains, but like a blanket.