A firm tap of wood on wood cut cleanly through the clamor. Makarov stood on the long table, staff in hand, eyes twinkling with pride.
Makarov (booming kindly): "Ahem! A moment, brats!"
The guild settled... mostly. Happy hovered lower. Natsu still bounced. Erza folded her arms and managed the crowd with a look.
Makarov: "Tonight we welcome a child who bled to protect one of ours before he knew what it meant to belong. He has since stood beside you in battle, and he has chosen this hall as his home."
He turned to Ryuji. "Boy—are you ready?"
Ryuji swallowed. The weight of every eye could have been iron. And yet—Wendy's hand hovered near his sleeve, not touching, asking. He gave the smallest nod.
Ryuji: "...I am."
Mirajane stepped forward with a velvet-lined tray. Upon it lay the guild's emblem press—a small, gleaming device inscribed with runes, its crystal core pulsing softly.
Mirajane (warm): "Color and placement are yours to choose."
Natsu (stage whisper): "Left shoulder! Match Wendy's—symmetry!"
Wendy (flustered): "N-Natsu!"
Ryuji glanced at Wendy, then at her right arm where the familiar mark rested. His mouth quirked.
Ryuji (deciding): "Left shoulder."
Makarov (chuckling): "A romantic sense of balance. Approved."
Wendy looked to Mira, then to Makarov, mustering courage.
Wendy (soft but steady): "Master... may I? Please? If Ryuji doesn't mind."
The hall hummed—teasing, awws, a thrown flower from who-knows-where. Erza's stern mouth softened a millimeter.
Ryuji met Wendy's eyes. The warmth there felt like stepping into sun.
Ryuji (quiet): "I'd like that."
Makarov (formal, pleased): "Then let it be by a comrade's hand."
Mirajane placed the emblem press into Wendy's careful palms. Carla hovered at her shoulder, supervising like an anxious foreman.
Carla (prim): "Centered. No smudging."
Wendy (cheeks pink, focusing): "Y-Yes."
Narration:
Ryuji shrugged out of his jacket; the bandages beneath were thin now, the bruises fading. He knelt so Wendy could reach easily. The hall quieted to a reverent murmur; even Natsu stilled.
Wendy set the press lightly to his left shoulder. The rune lines glowed, soft and steady—a warm hum like a chord resolving.
Wendy (whisper, just for him): "Welcome to Fairy Tail."
Light blossomed. When it faded, the Fairy Tail emblem rested clean and bright on his skin—icy blue, edged faintly like frost catching morning sun.
The hall erupted.
Everyone: "YEEAAAH!"
Happy: "Aye! It looks cool!"
Gajeel (trying not to grin): "Tch. Not bad, snowflake."
Gray: "Matches your whole winter thing."
Natsu (already back to bouncing): "Now we fight—!"
Erza (without looking): "After cake."
Natsu (instantly): "CAKE!"
Cana (shoving a plate into Ryuji's hands): "Eat before Natsu finds the center."
Levy (scribbling in a notebook): "Left shoulder, icy blue, frosted edge—got it!"
Mirajane leaned in with a proud smile. "Fits you."
Makarov rapped his staff, softer this time.
Makarov (fond): "From this day, you walk as one of us. When you fall, we will lift you. When you stand, we will stand with you. That is the promise of this mark."
Ryuji looked down at the emblem—then up, over the sea of faces. Laughter rolled like a tide. Someone started a song. Wendy stood near, fingers still curled from where they'd steadied the press, unsure where to put them now.
He offered his hand. Just a simple, quiet gesture.
Ryuji (small smile): "Thank you."
Wendy (glowing, placing her hand in his): "Always."
Carla (approving with limits): "You may dance one (1) time. Slowly."
Happy: "Aye! Make it two!"
Narration:
And so it began—the kind of party only Fairy Tail could craft: loud, messy, full of love. Natsu tried to arm-wrestle a candlestick. Gray forgot his shirt entirely. Erza adjudicated a cake-slice dispute like a battlefield treaty. Lucy taught Ryuji the chorus to a guild song, Wendy sang harmony under her breath, and the emblem on his shoulder warmed each time she laughed.
For the first time, the word home felt less like a story other people told—and more like a place he stood.
Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima/Kodansha. I only own Ryuji Kazuma and this fan story. Non-commercial fan work.