Staring after Laxus's decisively retreating back, Shane shook his head inwardly.
The brief, easy camaraderie they'd shared over the ping-pong table had vanished the instant Makarov walked in.
Looks like things between that grandfather and grandson were even tenser than they appeared.
He clicked his tongue silently and set the paddle down. Every family's got its mess, he thought. Guess that saying really is universal.
On the other side, Makarov looked entirely unbothered by his grandson's attitude. The flicker of hurt in his eyes vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
Then he plodded toward the bar, grumbling, "For once I come back early and not one of you brats thinks to say welcome back…"
Seeing his chance, Shane hurried over and stepped into his path.
"Master," he said, tone serious, "there's something I'd like to ask you."
Erza, right behind him, immediately caught on. She turned to Cana, who was watching with wide, curious eyes. "Cana, wait for us here," she whispered.
Cana glanced between them. Curiosity burned, but she still nodded and stayed put.
Makarov let Shane block him, gave the boy a measuring look, then flicked a glance at Erza's equally solemn face. With a sigh, he clambered up onto a barstool and poured himself a drink.
"What is it, Shane?" he asked, back to the kindly tone he reserved for the guild's "good kids."
Yes, the youngster's first job had caused more than a little fuss. But since then, he hadn't stirred any trouble. In Makarov's eyes, a kid who knew how to correct himself and live quietly in the guild was a model compared to half the demolition crew that passed for members.
Shane chose his words carefully. "Master, do you know a man named 'Brain'?"
"Pff—cough!" The gulp of booze Makarov had just taken nearly came back out his nose.
He forced it down, set the mug aside, and his eyes sharpened. "What are you asking about him for?"
He'd just finished thinking this kid was low maintenance, and now here he was dropping that name. It did not bode well.
He'd better not be winding up something huge…
"Mm… personal business. Might be connected to him," Shane said as lightly as he could.
Makarov thought of the intel from the morning's council meeting. Anything involving that man was never "simple."
But looking at Shane's earnest gaze, he could only sigh. "Fine. It's not exactly top secret. We were just talking about him at the meeting, actually."
Seeing the old man willing to talk, Shane tugged Erza to the nearest stools. They sat side by side, hands on their knees, wearing their best attentive-student faces.
The more obedient they looked, the more convinced Makarov became that they were up to something.
"Hmph." He snorted. "I'll tell you what I know—but after that, you're telling me exactly why you're digging into him."
He had to know the line, so he could keep them from doing anything too insane.
Shane hesitated, then flicked his awareness toward the Book of Heroic Spirits, checking his bond with Makarov.
It showed complete trust on the old man's side. It was almost embarrassing how much more distant his own end looked.
"It's not like I can't say," he replied, nodding. "All right."
With that promise, Makarov's expression eased a little.
"Brain used to be Director of the Bureau of Magical Development," he began, voice dropping. "A few months back, the whole bureau was wiped out. The Council investigated. Turned out he'd been running a child-trafficking ring in secret."
His lip curled with undisguised disgust.
"He abused his position—hunting down gifted children to use in human experiments, just to feed his own twisted ambitions. He's been missing ever since."
He finished, took another sip of his drink, and looked back at Shane. "That's all I've got."
Child trafficking… human experiments…
It lined up a little too well.
Shane's fingers tightened on his knees, joints popping softly.
Most of the Tower's prisoners had been kids.
Now it seemed that, besides being used to build the so-called R-System, some of them had been pulled aside as test subjects.
It made his blood boil.
His eyes went cold; his knuckles cracked as he clenched harder.
Makarov didn't push. He watched quietly until he saw the boy's expression smooth a little, then said, "All right. Your turn."
He knew the kid was carrying something, but if he wasn't talking, it was up to the grown-up to be patient.
Shane drew a long breath and steadied himself. Then he told him everything—what had really happened in the Tower of Heaven, and the infiltration plan he and Jellal had put together.
"…That's a nasty mess," Makarov muttered, frowning. He hadn't imagined the two of them carried something like that.
His gaze softened as he looked at them.
Two tough kids.
But the situation was tricky. According to Jellal's letter, Brain's movements were erratic; even he had barely seen the man. Brain had handed the new R-System entirely over to Jellal and vanished.
If the Council couldn't track him, the guild had even less to go on. Their best hope was to wait until Jellal had earned more of his trust—then act.
"With the bureau gone, he's lost his lab. That buys us time. And you've got a friend on the inside. Trust him," Makarov said gently. He added that he had old contacts in the Council—if anything new on Brain surfaced, he'd let them know at once.
Shane nodded. The whole point of the infiltration plan had been to get ahead of exactly this.
But he didn't intend to just sit on his hands either. Thinking of Brain brought another name to mind—Ultear.
Brain was a ghost. But Ultear was out in the open.
And she seemed fixated on him.
Maybe that could be turned into an in.
If he played it right and drew her to him… the more he thought about it, the more plausible it sounded. His eyes lit up.
He'd have to get word to Jellal.
With a plan forming, he looked up and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Master."
The gratitude came from the heart. He hadn't expected Makarov to accept their ugly history so easily—or to offer help so naturally, as if it were only right.
"The guild isn't just a job board," Makarov said, frowning at the formality as he reached out and thumped Shane lightly on the forehead. "It's where comrades gather. For kids with nowhere to go, it's home."
"So don't make that face."
He pulled his hand back and put on a fake stern look. "All right. You've asked your questions. If there's nothing else, let me drink in peace. Talking to you gives me a headache."
"I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the headache," Shane muttered, rubbing his reddened forehead.
Then, as if remembering something, his voice turned tentative.
"Uh… there is one more thing. About Zeref…"
~~~
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