Chapter 9: Training, Tea, and Teasing
The morning sun filtered softly into the Fairy Tail guildhall, scattering light across the worn wooden floor. Menma sat cross-legged, chains coiled neatly around him, while Makarov stood before him, pipe in hand and a serious expression that somehow made him look even smaller than usual.
"Today, we're going to focus on your Eye Magic," Makarov said, tapping the side of his pipe. "Activation, deactivation, and controlling it without losing focus. Think you're ready?"
Menma nodded. "…Ready."
"Good. Remember," Makarov continued, "your power isn't just strength. It's control. You must learn to summon it when needed… and suppress it when not."
Menma closed his eyes, focusing on the calm within him. A faint crimson glow flared behind his eyelids as the Sharingan and Rinnegan-like powers pulsed in tandem. He exhaled slowly.
"Now, deactivate it."
He blinked once. The glow faded perfectly. Makarov nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Again."
For the next hour, Menma repeated the cycle, flicking his eyes on and off while keeping his body still. Sweat formed at his brow, but he didn't falter. Makarov watched closely, occasionally offering advice, occasionally chuckling at Menma's intense focus.
"You're improving faster than I expected," the small master said. "Though you still scowl like a thundercloud when you concentrate."
Menma muttered under his breath, "…Focus requires seriousness."
"Sure, sure," Makarov replied, puffing on his pipe. "Let's see that focus applied to your Chain Magic next."
Menma's chains uncoiled like silver snakes, responding instantly to his mental command. He wove them into nets, barriers, and coils, lifting heavy crates and moving them across the hall with precision. Makarov nodded.
"Control, precision, and restraint," Makarov said. "Remember, your power is immense. Use it wisely… and humor the guild if they try to get under your skin."
Menma's lips twitched. "…I'm not here for humor."
"Yet somehow, they always find you," Makarov chuckled.
By mid-morning, the guild chaos had already begun. Natsu and Gray were sparring near the bar, sending bottles and training dummies flying. Elfman was demonstrating a new move from Beast Take Over, nearly knocking over a stack of crates.
Menma sighed. "…Chaos as usual."
Mirajane appeared, carrying a tray of tea. "Menma, you look tense. Want some tea before the day gets worse?"
He raised an eyebrow. "…Tea? You're offering tea in the middle of chaos?"
She smiled, setting the tray on a nearby table. "Exactly. A little calm before the storm. Consider it… bonding time."
Menma glanced at her, then at the guildmates wreaking havoc around him. "…Fine."
They sat across from each other, the tea steaming in their cups. The sounds of the guild—the bickering, laughter, and occasional crash—seemed to fade into the background.
"You've improved," Mirajane said softly. "Not just in magic… but with everyone. They respect you."
Menma's gaze flickered to her. "…I'm just… careful."
"Careful, huh?" She teased, smirking. "I think it's more than that. You care."
He froze, eyes lowering. "…That's… irrelevant."
Mirajane chuckled, leaning slightly closer. "Sure, sure. But it's nice to see."
The afternoon brought more "guild fun," which Menma reluctantly participated in. Natsu and Elfman challenged him to a friendly contest: lifting barrels using only Chain Magic.
"You think you're clever, Uzumaki," Natsu growled, lifting a barrel with one arm. "But can you beat me?"
Menma sighed, summoning chains in an intricate pattern, coiling them under the barrels. The barrels lifted gently, then balanced perfectly on top of each other. Natsu and Elfman blinked, dumbfounded.
"…Did you cheat?" Natsu asked suspiciously.
"No cheating," Menma replied flatly. "Just precise control."
Gray leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking. "Show-off."
Mirajane laughed, patting Menma on the shoulder. "You're a natural at this. Even if you don't want to admit it."
Menma's lips twitched into a faint smile. "…I didn't do it for praise."
"Sure," she teased. "But you still got it."
Later, as Menma rested after a small sparring session, Mirajane approached with a playful glint in her eyes.
"Want to help me with something?" she asked.
"…Depends on what it is," Menma replied cautiously.
"It's mundane. But I need someone I can trust not to break anything."
Menma raised an eyebrow. "…I don't break things."
"Usually," she corrected with a grin. "I want you to help me organize the guild's storage room. It's… chaotic."
He groaned. "…Chaos is part of its charm."
"Not when I can't find my dresses," she countered.
For the next hour, Menma and Mirajane moved crates, sorted magical supplies, and occasionally argued over proper organization. Mirajane teased him relentlessly, commenting on his "overly serious approach" and how his chains occasionally got tangled with the crates.
At one point, Menma tried to lift a crate using only chains, but it swung unexpectedly and nearly knocked Mirajane over. He reacted instantly, extending a Wood Make arm to catch her safely.
"Wow," she breathed, brushing herself off. "You're… surprisingly careful."
"I said no accidents," Menma replied flatly.
Mirajane's eyes softened. "…That's one of the things I like about you."
He ignored her, focusing on the crates, but a faint warmth crept into his chest.
By evening, the guild hall was quiet. Natsu and Gray had collapsed from exhaustion, Elfman was napping on the floor, and Cana had claimed a corner for herself with a mug of tea. Menma sat beside Mirajane near the window, the fading sunlight casting long shadows.
"You've done well today," she said softly. "Not just magic… but with everyone. You're slowly becoming part of us."
Menma's eyes flickered crimson briefly, then returned to normal. "…I'm just… careful."
"Careful, yes," she said, smiling. "But also… kind. Protective. Reliable. You've become someone I can count on."
He looked away, focusing on the sunset. "…I… appreciate that."
Mirajane leaned slightly against him, casual and comfortable. "You don't have to say more. I can see it in your actions."
For the first time in months, Menma allowed himself to relax completely. He didn't need to be on guard. The guild, Mirajane, and even the chaos around him—this was home.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a small, quiet thought took root: maybe… this was exactly where he was meant to be.
Word Count: ~1,850