Azra'il - POV
There are few universal certainties in this long, tedious, and often irritating existence. One is that death comes for everyone, except, apparently, for me, because the universe, in its infinite and sadistic creativity, seems to have a peculiar sense of humour and likes to keep my soul as an eyewitness to its countless tasteless jokes. Another is that time, that relentless river, passes whether we want it to or not, dragging with it our best intentions and worst haircuts. And the third, perhaps the most immutable of all cosmic laws, is that Fairy Tail missions NEVER, ever, under any circumstances, end simply, cleanly, or without a considerable amount of damage to others' property.
But this time, against all statistical odds and Eos's apocalyptic warnings about "interactions with unstable yokai," we returned from Hosenka relatively intact.
"Relatively" being, of course, the key and most flexible word in the vocabulary. Considering that Natsu and Gray now owed a fortune in repairs to Yamamoto-san's inn and had spent the entire journey back in a heated debate about the most efficient ways to make money quickly, most of which were terribly illegal, logistically impractical, or involved the sale of internal organs with little market value.
"I don't NEED a kidney, Gray! I have two! It's biological redundancy!" Natsu had argued at some point during the trip, with a logic that was frighteningly… Natsu.
"You can't just sell your organs, you flame-brain!" Gray had replied, with the exasperation of someone trying to teach quantum physics to a squirrel. "Besides, who the devil would want a kidney that's probably already been carbonised on the inside and marinated in chilli?"
"MY KIDNEY ISN'T CARBONISED! IT'S PINK AND HEALTHY!"
"YOU LITERALLY EAT FIRE, YOU IDIOT!"
"SO WHAT?! THAT PROBABLY MAKES IT TASTIER!"
Erza, to the relief of my already battered sanity, had ended the discussion about the black market for Dragon Slayer organs with a single, icy glare that promised creative and very painful violence if another syllable was spoken on the subject. The rest of the journey was in an almost sacred and blessed silence.
Now, we were back at the guild, and I was genuinely, almost embarrassingly, happy to see the familiar double doors of the building. Not that I would admit it out loud, of course. I have a reputation for ancestral indifference and disdain for sentimentality to maintain.
"WE'RE BACK, YOU USELESS LOT!" Natsu announced to the world, kicking the doors open with his usual subtlety of a rhinoceros in a crystal shop.
The guild was in its normal state of controlled chaos, which, to an outside observer, would look like the prelude to a civil war. Cana was drinking directly from a barrel in a corner, Macao and Wakaba were arguing about something irrelevant and probably related to women, Elfman was shouting about manliness to an empty chair, and Mira was smiling sweetly behind the bar, with the air of someone who wasn't a feared she-devil capable of destroying cities with a snap of her fingers. Everything perfectly, wonderfully, normal.
Until, as always, it wasn't anymore.
"Lucy!"
The voice, soft and charming, came from behind one of the wooden pillars. And then the figure emerged. Loke. Or Leo, depending on which business card he was using that day. The Celestial Spirit of the Lion, the playboy of the zodiac, who had spent years hiding in the human world, fleeing a guilt that consumed him, related to the death of his former master. A situation that Lucy, with her stubbornness and her heart that was too big, and I, with my presence and my reluctance to see a drama drag on for longer than necessary, had "resolved" just over a week ago, in an intervention that involved many lectures, some tears, and a surprise audience with the Celestial Spirit King himself.
"Loke!" Lucy smiled, the genuine relief at seeing him well and no longer looking like a ghost with existential problems. "You look… better! Much better!"
"Completely recovered, and all thanks to you lot," he said, adjusting his glasses with that practised charm that I, as an expert in the art of subtle manipulation, recognised from a mile away. "The Celestial Spirit King sends his regards and, surprisingly." He took something from the inner pocket of his immaculate suit jacket. "…And I… well, I've brought a little gift. For you, Lucy. And for your noisy friends."
They were tickets. Several of them. Shiny golden papers, with elegant lettering that screamed "expensive" and "exclusive," and which read "Akane Resort - All-Access VIP Pass."
"Akane Resort?!" Lucy's eyes widened, and for an instant, I saw Jewel signs forming in her pupils. "But… but that's the most famous resort in all of Fiore! They say it has a private beach, a five-star casino, a giant amusement park—"
"A spa," Erza added, her voice low, almost reverent, her eyes shining with a holy light that I rarely saw, not even when she was before a sacred artefact. "They have a spa. And, according to the reviews, the spa's room service offers a menu with over fifty different types of cakes and pies, available twenty-four hours a day."
I raised an eyebrow in her direction, a smirk appearing on my lips. "Have you… have you been researching the resort's menu, little red?"
She blushed, an adorable pink spreading across her cheeks. "I… I may have read some reviews in magazines. Just for… academic curiosity. It is important to be well-informed about the local amenities."
"Academic. Of course."
"Completely and utterly academic."
(She is so ridiculously cute when she tries to lie badly about her passion for sweets,) I thought, feeling a familiar, uncomfortable warmth in my chest.
[I agree,] Eos intervened, her mental voice as dry as ever. [Her inability to hide her enthusiasm for confectionery products is a documentedly adorable trait and a tactical vulnerability that could be easily exploited, if necessary.]
(Note that down as 'strictly for protection purposes', Eos. Not for blackmail. Yet.)
"There are enough tickets for all of you," Loke continued, smiling at the chaos he knew he was about to create. "Consider it a small thank you. For what Lucy did for me. For what you all did."
"HOLIDAY!" Natsu shouted, the sound echoing through the guild and making the tankards tremble. The debt of one hundred and forty-five thousand Jewels, all completely and utterly forgotten in an instant. "WE'RE GOING RIGHT NOW!"
"Wait, Natsu, calm down! We've just come back from an exhausting mission," Lucy tried, in vain, to argue with the force of nature that was his impulsiveness.
"SO WHAT? THE BEST CURE FOR A MISSION IS ANOTHER MISSION CALLED 'HOLIDAY'!"
"He has a good point," Gray said, and I almost fell over at seeing the two of them, for the first time in recorded human history, agreeing. "We definitely deserve a break after all that mess with the Yokai."
"Aye!" Happy flew in excited circles above Natsu's head. "Resort means FRESH, HIGH-QUALITY FISH! VIP FISH!"
I looked at Erza. Her, with her love for cakes and a visible need to relax after Galuna Island.
Erza looked at me. Me, with my love for… well, for doing absolutely nothing, and a growing curiosity about how Titania behaved in a tropical environment.
And on both our faces, hers desperately trying to maintain a façade of composure and responsibility, mine not even trying to hide my amused anticipation, was the same silent and inevitable conclusion.
We were going to the bloody Akane Resort.
--------(*)--------
The Akane Resort was exactly everything the brochures promised and, to my astonishment, a little more.
Located in a paradisiacal bay on the east coast of Fiore, the complex stretched for miles of a beach with sand so white and fine it looked like sugar, with water so crystal clear in shades of turquoise and emerald that you could see the fish laughing at you from metres deep. There was an absurd number of palm trees that looked like they had been strategically placed by a landscape gardener with an obsessive-compulsive disorder for tropical symmetry.
The main building was a masterpiece of architecture, a mixture of classicism and modernity, with elegant towers, balconies with breathtaking sea views, and a casino that, even in broad daylight, shone with the sinful promise of fortune and bankruptcy. Beside it, a noisy and colourful amusement park, with a roller coaster that snaked dangerously close to the water, a Ferris wheel that touched the clouds, and several other ingenious attractions designed to separate tourists from their money and, in many cases, their recent lunch.
And me? Ah, I was in FULL HOLIDAY MODE. That rare and glorious state of mind where my existential worries were temporarily suspended in favour of sun and leisure.
I had swapped my usual, discreet clothes for something a little more… appropriate for the weather and my mood. A loose Hawaiian shirt, with wave and flower patterns in shades of blue and white, left purposefully open to show the black sports bikini underneath and, consequently, my abdomen defined by a reasonable amount of exercise, cultivation discipline, and favourable genetics. A necklace of tropical flowers, which I had received from a local vendor, hung around my neck, matching the blood-red hibiscus flower I had tucked behind my ear. Dark glasses completed the look, along with a pair of comfortable shorts that showed more of my legs than usual and a pair of simple sandals.
And, of course, the ukulele I had "acquired" from a street vendor on the way to the resort. He had been so charmed by my smile (and perhaps a little intimidated by my look that said "I know exactly the cost price of this instrument and I can ruin your business with three well-placed words") that he practically gave me the instrument for free, just so I would go away and stop analysing him.
(Charm: the most underestimated and economically advantageous of all the arcane arts.)
[Technically, you paid for it. Just ten per cent of the original price. It is what is classified as a 'hostile purchase with a smile',] Eos commented in my mind.
(Details, details. The intention was charitable. I allowed him to keep a minimum of profit.)
"You look… relaxed," Erza observed beside me, and I could feel her eyes, even without seeing them directly, scanning my figure in a way she clearly thought was subtle and discreet.
It wasn't. Not in the slightest.
I smiled, lowering my dark glasses to the tip of my nose so I could look at her over the lenses with an amused glint. "Holiday, Erza. That's what they're for, you know? To relax."
"I know perfectly well what a holiday is," she replied, a little defensively, crossing her arms.
"You know the theoretical concept, my dear Titania. Practising the art is another story entirely."
"I practise!" she protested, which only made me smile more.
"Oh, really? And when was the last time you took a real holiday? And by 'holiday', I mean a period of time in which you were not secretly on a mission, did not participate in any 'special training for relaxation resistance', and, most importantly, were not watching over anyone to ensure they didn't blow anything up?"
The silence that followed my question was long, awkward, and more than enough of an answer.
"That's what I thought," I said, and on an impulse, I put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to me as we continued to walk towards the sumptuous entrance of the resort. "Relax, Little Red. Consider this your official training. I'm going to teach you the ancient and sacred art of doing absolutely nothing productive for an extended period of time. And, if you behave, I might even teach you how to build sandcastles."
"That doesn't seem very… worthy of an S-Class mage…"
"It's wonderful. You'll love it. Trust me."
She didn't answer, her body stiff under my arm for a moment. But, crucially, she didn't pull away.
Progress. Slow, but definite.
"I… I think I'm going to die," Natsu groaned, his face a shade of green that would make any chameleon envious, his forehead pressed against the wooden floor of the park's deck. "I'm definitely, with all certainty, going to die this time."
The roller coaster had been a terrible idea. A brilliantly, gloriously, my idea, I admit, but still, terrible in its predictable consequences.
The ride, if something with triple loops, vertical drops that defied gravity and the will to live, and a particularly sadistic section that went literally through an artificial ice-cold waterfall could be called a "ride," had lasted approximately three minutes that for Natsu probably felt like three centuries. Three long minutes during which he had gone through all the stages of grief, several colours that I honestly didn't know human skin was capable of reaching, and an impressive amount of screams that alternated between pure terror, homicidal rage, and pleas to a god he probably didn't even believe existed.
"Transport…" he murmured, kneeling on the floor like a penitent. "It was transport… why did no one tell me it was a form of transport… and of torture…"
Gray, who, to his eternal satisfaction, had survived the ordeal without any incident (besides nearly freezing the seat of the cart out of pure reflex on the first drop), was standing with his arms crossed, looking very pleased with himself. "Natsu. All the attractions in an amusement park are, in some way, transport. The entire concept is to move you from one place to another at high speed to simulate the feeling of imminent danger. It's what people call 'fun'."
"THEN WHY DID YOU BRING ME HERE, YOU TRAITORS?!" Natsu shouted, lifting his head with an expression of pure betrayal.
"Because you said, Natsu, and I quote verbatim," Gray said, with a cruel smile, "'a simple roller coaster is nothing for a Dragon Slayer! I bet I can handle it better than the ice-lolly!'. Remember?"
"I WAS WRONG! COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY WRONG! I ADMIT IT! ARE YOU SATISFIED NOW?!"
"Very, very satisfied," Gray replied, with a nod.
Happy landed gently on Natsu's head, giving him comforting pats with his little paw. "Don't worry, Natsu. At least you weren't sick on anyone this time."
"'THIS TIME'?!" Lucy's eyes widened, horrified. "Have there been… other times?!"
"Aye! One time he was sick right on the Master's head during a particularly turbulent train journey. The Master didn't speak to him for a week and wore a strange hat until the smell went away."
"That was an accident! I swear!" Natsu protested, his voice weak.
"You aimed in his direction when you felt it was going to happen," Happy retorted, with the innocence of one who doesn't understand the concept of betrayal.
"IT WAS THE SUDDEN MOVEMENT OF THE TRAIN THAT UNBALANCED ME!"
I was comfortably leaning against a cotton candy stall, watching the familiar chaos with a satisfied and slightly cruel smile. Erza was beside me, also watching, with that expression of maternal exasperation she reserved especially for the most ridiculous and childish moments of our group.
"They are… absolutely impossible," she said, sighing.
"They are amusing. An inexhaustible source of free entertainment," I corrected.
"You really have a very strange definition of fun, Azra'il."
"I have several years of accumulated experience in various forms of entertainment, my dear. You can trust the expert here. This is top-quality comedy."
She rolled her eyes, but I saw, oh, how I saw, the corner of her mouth tremble with a contained smile.
"Come on," I said, pushing myself off the stall and, on an impulse, taking her hand. Her skin was warm and a little calloused, the touch familiar and comforting. "Let's explore a bit while Natsu regains the will to live and, probably, to set Gray on fire."
"And… and the others?" she asked, looking a little surprised by my gesture, but not letting go of my hand.
"Lucy is too busy taking pictures of Natsu's suffering for her future novel, like a good writer. Gray is enjoying the rare opportunity to tease Natsu without immediately getting punched. And Happy is being Happy. They'll be perfectly fine on their own for a few minutes. And if they're not, well, at least we'll have a good story to tell later."
"But—"
"Erza," I said, squeezing her hand a little more firmly. "Holiday. Remember your training. The art of doing absolutely nothing productive. Lesson number one: delegate the chaos to others."
She hesitated for a second, her brown eyes meeting mine. And then, a small, resigned smile appeared. And her fingers, slowly, intertwined with mine.
"…Alright. Holiday."
We spent the next hour exploring the amusement park as if we were two normal people on a normal date. Which, technically and in every possible sense, we were not. But sometimes, pretending was good. And fun.
We passed by the test-of-strength games, where I, with an innocent smile, convinced Erza to demonstrate her skills, resulting in a completely destroyed strength meter, with its spring burst and the bell flying to the other side of the park, and an employee in a state of shock, muttering about "superhuman strength" and "workman's compensation." We passed by the shooting galleries, where Erza, with a military concentration, hit every single target with a frightening precision and won such an absurd amount of prize tickets that the employee had to go and get three more rolls. We passed by the food stall, where I convinced her to try churros with chocolate and dulce de leche sauce for the first time, and we shared them as we walked, our fingers occasionally touching, in ways that seemed purely accidental but which we both knew, definitely, were not.
And then, to my joy and her terror, we reached the haunted house.
"No," Erza said immediately, stopping in her tracks as if she had hit an invisible wall.
"Oh, why not? It looks fun."
"Because," she said, her voice serious, "I have… reflexes. Very fast and bad reflexes in dark, noisy environments with unexpected things jumping out at me."
"You mean… reflexes for breaking things?"
"…Perhaps," she admitted, reluctantly.
"Perfect. That just makes it all the more exciting," I said, already pulling her by the hand towards the entrance.
"Azra'il— no, wait—"
But I was already pulling her into the darkness, with the laugh of someone who knows a disaster is about to happen and is eager to watch from the front row.
The haunted house at the famous Akane Resort was, honestly, very well made for tourist entertainment. There were dark and claustrophobic corridors, convincing sound effects of dragging chains and ghostly whispers, costumed actors in strategic positions, and a rather respectable number of well-timed scares that made Lucy, who had caught up with us along with the rest of the group, scream approximately every thirty seconds. Happy, the brave warrior, had hidden inside Lucy's rucksack in the first corridor and refused to come out, communicating only through small, muffled, and terrified "ayes." Natsu, still green and traumatised by the roller coaster, barely registered the scares, looking like one of the zombies himself. And Gray, with his tough-guy pose, was pretending not to be affected in the slightest, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and the way he jumped at every sudden noise.
And Erza… well, Erza, to her credit, lasted exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds of composure.
"HYAAAH! REQUIP!"
The war cry, guttural and instinctive, was accompanied by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood, of something cardboard being torn, and of a very human and terrified scream that was definitely not part of the pre-recorded soundtrack.
When the emergency lights finally came on, bathing the corridor in a red, alarming light and revealing the extent of the damage, I had to bite my lip hard to keep from bursting out laughing right there. Three cardboard and latex "monsters," which had probably looked frightening before, were now completely shredded, as if they had been through a shredder. A false wall, which was supposed to hide a mechanical skeleton, now had a perfectly drawn hole in the shape of a human body. And, cowering in a corner, trembling from head to toe, was a teenage actor, dressed as a ghost, with his eyes wide with pure and absolute trauma, clearly reconsidering his career choices.
"He… he jumped out at me from the dark," Erza said, her voice slightly defensive, still in a fighting stance, even though the "enemy" was now crying quietly in the corner.
"That was literally his job, Erza," I said, finally letting a smile escape.
"But he JUMPED. Without warning!"
"The name of the place is HAUNTED HOUSE, my dear. The scares usually come included in the package. It's not as if they're going to hand you a detailed memo with the monster schedule."
"…I know. But my reflexes were faster," she muttered, stubbornly.
The park manager appeared five minutes later. And, from his expression of pure resignation, I was sure he was already preparing the bill. Erza, her face only slightly pink with embarrassment, paid for the damages without flinching. I stored that memory away as a precious treasure, to use against her in future arguments.
It was after the glorious and destructive visit to the haunted house that it happened. We were passing by the soft toy stalls, the ones where you have to knock down targets with a precise aim to win cute and probably mite-filled toys, when I stopped. And my heart, for some stupid reason, gave a leap.
There it was. Amidst a sea of colourful teddy bears, smiling rabbits, and dubious-looking unicorns. A stuffed wolf.
Not just any wolf. It was a white wolf, with details in a soft grey, eyes of a deep blue that looked strangely, almost uncomfortably, familiar, pointed and alert ears, and a stitched smile that was at once adorable and slightly threatening, as if it were about to bite someone, but in a cute way. It looked… like me. Like my ears. In a strange and inexplicable way that made me stop and stare.
"Oh." Erza's voice, soft, beside me. She stopped, following my gaze to the soft toy. "Do you… do you want that one, Azra'il?"
"Hm?" I forced myself to look away, feigning a disinterest I didn't feel. "No, of course not. Just looking. The stitching is a bit shoddy."
"You were staring," she said simply.
"I wasn't—"
"Your eyes were fixed on it for exactly fifteen seconds. I counted."
"You and your habit of counting seconds for everything, Titania. It's… a little specific."
"I notice things," she said, and before I could protest, she turned to the stall, her shoulders straightening with that determination of someone about to embark on a crusade. "Wait here."
"Erza, you don't have to, I don't really want—"
"It's just a game. It's easy," she said, already marching towards the stall attendant, with the determination of one going into a battle against an S-Class demon. "The big prize, that white wolf. It's just knocking down all the bottles, right?"
[Oh, no. This is going to end badly,] Eos commented in my mind.
(Shhh. Don't spoil the fun. I want to see.)
The game was simple, almost insultingly simple for someone with Erza's skills: three balls, six bottles stacked in a pyramid. Knock them all down with the three balls, and you win the big prize. Easy, right?
Erza paid, took the first ball with a concentration she normally reserved for the battlefield, analysed the target with her military strategist's eyes, calculating the trajectory, the wind strength, the density of the ball. And, with a movement that was pure force and precision, she threw.
The ball, to be fair, did knock down the bottles. For sure. The problem was that it didn't just knock down the bottles.
It went through the bottles as if they were made of smoke. It went through the canvas wall behind them with a ripping sound. And it went through the wall of the stall on the other side of the street with an even bigger crash. The sound of a chain reaction of destruction that followed, with plates breaking, something glass exploding, and the scream of a man who seemed to have lost something very valuable, was almost musical in its cacophony.
"I…" Erza froze, her hand still extended in the throwing position, her eyes wide with horror and disbelief. "I… I just wanted to… knock down the bottles…"
"MY PRECIOUS ANCIENT CHINESE PORCELAIN STALL!" a vendor screamed from somewhere to the right.
"MY VENETIAN LUCKY MIRROR!" came from another direction.
"MY GOD, THE BALL NEARLY HIT MY HEAD AND TOOK MY WINNING LOTTERY TICKET!" a random tourist shouted in a panic.
I was, literally, holding onto a lamppost to keep from falling to the ground with laughter. Tears were streaming down my face, and I couldn't breathe.
"It's— it's not funny, Azra'il!" Erza protested, her face completely red with pure and utter humiliation.
"IT'S VERY, VERY FUNNY, ERZA! IT'S THE FUNNIEST THING I'VE SEEN IN CENTURIES!" I managed to say between guffaws.
"I was trying to do something nice and thoughtful for you!"
"And you did! You provided me with an unforgettable masterpiece of accidental destruction and mass chaos! It's the best gift of all!"
The park manager, the same poor sod from the haunted house, appeared, with an expression on his face that said he was seriously reconsidering all his career choices, starting with the decision to have been born.
"Madam… again?"
"I… I'll pay for all the damages," Erza said automatically, already taking out her wallet with the resignation of someone who is used to the routine.
Twenty minutes later, with the stall in ruins, a porcelain stall in smithereens, and a significant amount of Jewels being transferred to several indignant merchants, Erza approached me with something in her hands, her gaze lowered.
The stuffed wolf.
The stall vendor, probably terrified at the prospect of another "easy throw," had simply given her the prize, perhaps as a peace offering. It was a little crumpled from the confusion. A little dirty with debris. One of the ears, now that I saw it up close, was a bit wonky. And there was a suspicious red stain on its paw that could have been ketchup, hot sauce, or, considering the ball's trajectory, the blood of some innocent collateral victim.
"Sorry," she said quietly, without looking me in the eyes, her voice full of a shame that was almost palpable. "He's not in very good condition. I… I ruined everything."
I took the wolf from her hands. The fur was soft, despite the dirt. I looked at it, at the crooked stitched smile, at the floppy ear, at the mysterious stain. I looked at Erza, at her face red with shame, at her eyes that still avoided mine, at the tense posture of someone who expected to be ridiculed, or worse, rejected.
"He's perfect," I said, and my voice was soft, sincere.
"No, he's not. He's a disaster. I destroyed three stalls trying to—"
"Erza." I waited, in silence, until she finally, reluctantly, lifted her gaze and met mine. "He's perfect."
And he was.
Not because of the wolf itself, although he was genuinely and uniquely adorable in his newly acquired state of disaster. But because she had done it for me. She had seen something that I, for a brief moment, had desired, and had tried, with all her strength and her clumsy way, to get it for me. She had failed spectacularly, as only Erza Scarlet could fail. And yet, even so, she had given me the prize, even broken, even damaged, as an offering.
With a quick, discreet movement, I pretended to put the stuffed wolf in my rucksack, but in reality, when Erza wasn't paying attention, I placed it in my dimensional inventory. That little, battered stuffed wolf. It was too precious to risk losing it. Now, it was stored in a safe space, alongside the memories of other lives, of other souls, alongside artefacts of incalculable power and treasures accumulated over millennia. A broken, dirty, and imperfect stuffed wolf.
And simply, absolutely, perfect for me.
The beach at Akane Resort was even more impressive up close than from the hotel windows. White sand that almost shimmered under the afternoon sun, as fine as stardust, water so clear and inviting in its shades of turquoise and emerald that you could see the colourful fish swimming carefree metres deep, and a respectable number of sun loungers, umbrellas, and, to my joy, waiters circulating with trays of colourful and probably very expensive drinks.
Natsu and Gray, predictably, were already in the sea, competing in something that looked like a dangerous mixture of a swimming race, wrestling, and an attempt at mutual homicide by drowning. Bursts of fire and pillars of ice would occasionally erupt from the water, making the more sensible tourists move away in a mixture of panic and confused admiration.
Happy was fishing on a nearby rock, completely oblivious to his companions' chaos, focused only on the promise of fresh fish for dinner.
And Lucy… Ah, Lucy. She was stretched out gracefully on a sun lounger, in a pink bikini that perfectly matched her golden hair and skin tone, with large sunglasses covering her eyes as she, clearly and with great effort, tried to ignore the aquatic destruction being caused by her teammates and pretend she was at a normal, civilised resort.
"This is so relaxing," she sighed as I approached, a dreamy smile on her lips. "If you completely ignore the war cries. And the occasional explosions. And the fact that we're probably going to be banned from this resort before nightfall."
"Think positively, Lucy," I said, sitting on the sun lounger next to her. "Maybe they'll only destroy the sea part. It's a big property. They can't break everything."
"Strangely, that is not at all reassuring, Azra'il."
"And it wasn't meant to be, my dear."
She laughed, a light laugh, and adjusted her glasses on her nose. "So… did you and Erza have fun at the park, apart from the mass destruction part?"
"Very much so," I admitted, a small smile appearing on my lips. "She, as I predicted, destroyed three stalls trying to win me a stuffed wolf that looks suspiciously like me."
"That's…" Lucy blinked, processing the information. "That's very, very cute, actually. In an extremely violent and financially irresponsible way."
"Her trademark, apparently. Strength, determination, and a trail of destruction wherever she goes."
"And you two… are you…?" She left the question hanging in the air, laden with a curiosity that was not at all subtle.
"Are we what, Lucy? Exhausted? Hungry? In need of a good iced tea?"
"You know very well what I mean."
"No, I don't. Be more specific."
"Azra'il, don't play dumb."
"Lucy."
She sighed, giving up. "You're impossible to talk to, you know that?"
"Thank you. I practise a lot to maintain that reputation."
It was then that a subtle movement in the nearby bushes, behind the palm trees, caught my attention. I turned my head casually, but my wolf ears, far sharper than a normal human's, picked up sounds that would have gone unnoticed by most. Controlled, almost held, breathing. A slightly accelerated heartbeat of excitement. And an almost inaudible murmur, carried on the breeze, of…
"Gray-sama is so handsome in the water… Juvia could watch this spectacle forever… like a sea goddess observing her king…"
(Oh, Eos, are you seeing this?)
[Affirmative, Azra'il. I am detecting the presence of Juvia Lockser, a water mage and former member of the Phantom Lord guild, hidden in the vegetation, equipped with what appears to be… a pair of high-powered binoculars.]
(The obsessed water mage we faced. And she is, in fact, in the bushes, with binoculars, spying on Gray. What… dedication.)
[Her dedication to the observation of her object of affection is, from a purely analytical point of view, impressive.]
(From a mental sanity point of view, however, it is a bit… worrying.)
[Why not both? They are not mutually exclusive concepts, as you yourself have demonstrated on several occasions.]
I said nothing. There was no need to alert anyone. She didn't seem to pose an immediate threat, at least not to anyone other than the mental balance and privacy of poor Gray, who was still brawling with Natsu, completely oblivious to his private fan club of one. So, I left her to her own peculiar devices. Everyone, after all, needs a hobby. Hers, apparently, was the observation of semi-naked ice mages. There were worse hobbies.
Erza appeared ten minutes later. And, for a moment, my brain, with all its millennia of experience and knowledge, simply… stopped working. And I completely lost the ability to form coherent and rational thoughts.
The bikini she was wearing was simple, a two-piece, in a black that contrasted violently with the paleness of her skin and the red of her hair. The design was modest, but it highlighted the curves of her warrior's body, the lines of defined muscles in her abdomen and legs, in a way that her usual armour, as imposing as it was, completely hid. Her scarlet hair was loose, the red waves falling over her shoulders, damp from the shower she had probably taken, with a few stubborn strands sticking to her sweaty skin. She was carrying a towel over her shoulder with a casualness that was almost criminal and had an expression on her face of someone who was trying very, VERY hard to look natural and failing miserably in every aspect.
"What?" she asked, stopping in front of me and noticing, with her sharp perception, my fixed gaze. "Is there something wrong with my bikini?"
(Wrong? Wrong? Everything is wrong, but in the best possible way!)
[Biometric analysis in progress, Azra'il. Your heart rate has increased by 40% in less than three seconds. Your pupils are visibly dilated. And your breathing has become irregular. A classic physiological response to a high-intensity visual stimulus.]
(SHE'S IN A BIKINI, EOS. A BLACK BIKINI. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THIS.)
[I have perceived the textile arrangement. I am just documenting your predictable and rather… dramatic physiological response.]
"No. Nothing wrong," I managed to say, my voice coming out a little hoarser than normal. "Absolutely nothing wrong."
Erza frowned, clearly not believing a word I said. "You're staring at me. Fixedly."
"I wasn't—"
"Your eyes haven't moved from my abdomen for exactly seventeen seconds."
"You and your irritating habit of counting seconds, Titania. It's… a little obsessive."
"It's a tactical habit," she retorted, sitting on the sun lounger next to me. And the simple proximity, the smell of sun, sea, and her, did things to my heart rate that, in theory, should no longer be possible after millennia of existence and a carefully cultivated detachment. "And you haven't answered the question. Why were you staring?"
"Because you're beautiful."
The words just came out. No filter. No sarcasm. Just the naked, raw truth.
Erza froze. Completely. As if she'd been hit by Gray's ice magic. The familiar pink, but this time much more intense, rose up her neck, her cheeks, to the tips of her ears.
"I— uh… y-you— that— what—"
"Take a deep breath, Erza. You're going to run out of air," I said, having immense fun with her short-circuit.
"I AM BREATHING!"
"You're hyperventilating. It's a little different. And much noisier."
"N-no, it's not!"
I laughed. A genuine laugh, that came from the bottom of my chest. I couldn't help it. She was so… her. Capable of facing demons, monsters, and dark mages without flinching, but completely and utterly disarmed by a simple, honest, and well-deserved compliment.
"Come on," I stood up in a fluid movement, holding out my hand to her. "Let's go for a swim."
"S-swim?"
"Yes. It's usually what people do at the beach. It involves water. Movement. It's quite… refreshing."
"I know what people do at the beach, you idiot!"
"So, what are you waiting for? Come on."
She looked at my outstretched hand. At the blue and inviting sea. And back at me. And then, with a sigh that was half exasperation and half a complete surrender, she took my hand. "You are absolutely impossible, Azra'il Weiss."
"You're the second person to tell me that today. I'm starting to think it's true."
"It doesn't surprise me in the slightest."
"I choose to interpret it as a compliment to my unique personality."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"Too late. I've already accepted it."
And together, hand in hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, we walked towards the water, ignoring Natsu's distant explosions and Lucy's curious glances.
The water was perfect. A temperature that was both refreshing and welcoming. We entered together, still hand in hand, and I felt Erza shiver slightly as the cool water hit her waist. Her nose wrinkled in that way I found unfairly adorable, that little crease of surprise between her eyebrows that appeared whenever something caught her off guard, breaking her warrior's façade.
I squeezed her hand in response, a small, silent gesture, and I felt her relax almost instantly. It was a thing of ours, I realised. A silent language, built over years of friendship, of teasing, of battles side by side, of shared nights on the guild's roof when we were younger and the world, and our own feelings, seemed infinitely less complicated.
When the water reached chest height, Erza, with her usual impulsiveness, dived in all at once. And she emerged with a sigh, shaking her head like a lion, her long scarlet hair spinning in an arc that sent droplets of water in all directions, including, to my delight, directly into my face. She didn't even notice. She was too busy fighting the strands of wet hair that were now sticking to her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, like stubborn seaweed.
"What is it?" she asked, finally winning the war against her own hair and noticing my amused smile.
"Nothing," I replied, with the purest innocence. "It's just that you look cute when you're annoyed with your hair."
The pink, which had barely faded, rose up her neck instantly. "I am not… cute!"
And, on an impulse that was purely my own, I splashed water in her face.
The sound of indignation that escaped her, a sound that was half a choke, half a muffled war cry, echoed across the beach. For a second, she was completely still, the water running down her face, her brown eyes wide with pure and utter surprise. And then, she smiled. That smile. That dangerous smile. The smile that usually came right before someone was hospitalised for "Titania-induced blunt force trauma."
"Ah, so… that's how you want to play, white wolf?"
Before I could even formulate a reply or an excuse, a wave of water, with the force of a small tsunami, hit me with such strength that it sent me back two steps and made me swallow half the ocean. Erza had used both hands, putting all the strength of those incredibly trained arms of hers into the attack.
"THAT WAS COMPLETELY DISPROPORTIONATE!" I shouted, spitting out salt water and trying to catch my breath.
"THAT WAS JUSTICE!" she replied, laughing.
I retaliated immediately, splashing water back and aiming for her face, but the wretch dived with absurd reflexes, worthy of a ninja fish, and emerged right behind me. Before I could turn completely, another cascade of cold water hit the back of my neck. Her laugh, free, genuine, completely uninhibited and happy, was enough to make every second of partial drowning completely worth it.
The next few minutes were an absolute chaos of splashes, screams, laughter, and an impressive amount of salt water swallowed by both parties. At some point, Erza, the competitive one, decided she needed a tactical advantage and started chasing me through the water, swimming with a speed that, honestly, shouldn't be possible for a human being without gills. I fled, not out of pride, but for pure and simple SURVIVAL, diving to try and escape her aquatic attacks.
It didn't work, of course. She caught me under the water, her brown eyes shining with amusement and triumph through the crystal-clear water, and pulled me to the surface by the arm, in a strong, sure movement.
We emerged together, panting, laughing, completely soaked and probably looking like two idiots to anyone watching us from the beach. And, for the first time in a very, very long time, I didn't care in the slightest.
"Alright, alright. I surrender," I said, raising my hands in a gesture of peace.
"So easily?" She sounded almost disappointed, which was a little frightening.
"You nearly DROWNED me, Erza."
"A slight exaggeration."
"I swallowed LITRES of salt water, woman!"
"A few mouthfuls, at most. It's good for the skin."
"My lungs vehemently disagree."
She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips remained, wide, relaxed, lighting up her entire face in a way the sun couldn't. It was rare, incredibly rare, to see Erza like this. Without the weight of her armour, without the burden of her responsibilities, without the weight of the world on her shoulders. Just… her. Happy. And just us.
We floated side by side for a moment, in a comfortable silence, just letting the water gently rock us, the afternoon sun warming our faces and shoulders. A perfect balance.
"There are some very beautiful corals over there," Erza said eventually, her voice a little lower, pointing to a colourful formation a few metres away. "Lucy mentioned them when she was researching the resort."
We swam over there together, at a leisurely pace this time, no competition, no water fight. The corals were spectacular up close, a true underwater city, with shades of electric blue, vibrant pink, yellows that seemed to glow with their own light. Tiny fish, the colours of the rainbow, swam between the formations, completely indifferent to our presence.
Erza stopped beside me, her brown eyes scanning the colours with a genuine and almost childlike enchantment.
"That one there," she said, pointing to a large, round coral with wavy layers, "looks like a giant strawberry cake."
I looked at her. I looked at the coral. And back at her. "…Only you, Erza. Only you would see food in a calcium carbonate formation."
"But it DOES! Look at the layers! It looks like icing!"
"They are calcium and polyp formations, Erza."
"They are calcium formations that look, undeniably, like ICING."
"Are you hungry again?"
"I am always thinking about cake, Azra'il. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm hungry. It's a state of mind."
I laughed, the sound coming out in bubbles in the water. Erza, ignoring my lack of appreciation for her culinary analysis, continued to point out the other formations: that one there, longer and more pointed, looked like one of her swords. That other one, wider and more curved, was shaped like a shield. And THAT one there, small and red, was definitely a coral strawberry. It was ridiculous. It was adorable. And it was so, so Erza that my chest ached in a good way.
The afternoon sun, filtered by the water, created dancing patterns on her pale skin. Her scarlet hair floated around her face like a halo of liquid fire. And she was smiling, that small, genuine, and unconscious smile that only appeared when she completely let her guard down. I wanted to save that image forever. To store it in a safe corner of my vast and chaotic memory, to revisit on the darkest of days.
"Thank you," she said suddenly, still looking at the corals, her voice a whisper.
"For what? For the marine geology lesson?"
"No, you idiot." She turned to me. "For this. For dragging me here. For… for making me… play."
"You make it sound like that's something rare and precious."
"It is," she said, with an honesty that took me by surprise. "I don't usually just… have fun. Without a goal, without a training behind it. Just… be."
"I know," I said, and I reached out, brushing away a strand of wet hair that had stuck to her cheek. The gesture was automatic, natural, the kind of thing I did without thinking, without calculating. "That's exactly why I drag you."
She didn't pull away from my touch. On the contrary. She leaned her face slightly into my hand, an almost imperceptible movement, like a cat seeking a stroke. Almost.
"Come on," I said, my voice a little hoarser than I would have liked, before I did something stupid and impulsive like kissing her right there, among the corals and the colourful fish. "Let's go back to the sand. Before we turn into two prunes."
"Prunes?"
"Wrinkled. From the water."
"Ah." She looked at her own hands, noticing, with a certain fascination, the fingers that were already beginning to wrinkle. "Makes sense."
We swam back to the beach, side by side, in a comfortable silence, our shoulders occasionally touching in the gentle swell of the tide. And for the first time in a very, very long time, amidst the chaos that was Fairy Tail and my own troubled existence, I felt… at peace. A dangerous feeling. And a wonderful one.
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Author's Note
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AND YES… WE HAVE FINALLY ARRIVED AT THE TOWER OF HEAVEN ARC.
Which means: playtime is over, peace is over, happiness is over, your right to breathe without anxiety is over. It was great while it lasted. 😌
But before I start emotionally destroying my characters and, by extension, all of you, I REALLY WANTED to give this lighter moment to Azra'il and Erza. Because let's be honest: after so many missions, chaos, yokai, shouting, debt, destruction of others' property, and Natsu nearly selling his own kidney on the black market, they deserved a little bit of peace. Or at least something that in Fairy Tail comes close to peace, which in this case includes an amusement park, attempted aquatic homicide between friends, and structural damages paid in instalments.
And for the love of all that is holy… what was that date that isn't a date but is completely a date at the resort?
Because, tell me honestly: in what universe do two people hold hands, share food, go into the sea together, play in the water, look at coral and thank each other for providing a special moment… and that ISN'T a date?
Exactly. I am not accepting contrary arguments.
And Erza, poor thing, tried to be romantic in her own way… which naturally resulted in material destruction, logistical collapse, financial loss, and a stuffed wolf emerging from the battlefield like a war veteran. But let's be honest, that just made it all the cuter. Because her intention was so genuine that the toy came out wonky, traumatised, and covered in criminal evidence, but still became a perfect gift. Erza Scarlet level romance: 10/10 in sentiment, 2/10 in public safety.
I would also like to put it on record that Azra'il in holiday mode is a danger to society. Open Hawaiian shirt, ukulele, dark glasses, too much courage, and too little shame. And on the other side, we have Erza in a black bikini simply obliterating the last functioning neurons of the white wolf. And I ask: how did Azra'il still manage to form complete sentences? Because I, in her place, would have turned into sea foam.
Anyway, now I want to know from you: what was your favourite part of this delicious chaos?
The roller coaster destroying Natsu's digestive system?
The haunted house discovering that the real monster was Erza?
The stuffed wolf scene?
The water fight?
Or the fact that Erza can look at a coral and immediately think of cake? Because honestly, that was a very specific kind of spirituality.
Enjoy this chapter. Hold it in your hearts. Take a picture. Frame it. And have a nice cup of tea.
Because in the next chapter, we will have more moments between Azra'il and Erza…
But I'm warning you in advance: there's a good chance you'll get angry with Azra'il.
Like… really angry.
Maybe to the level of wanting to enter the story just to hit her.
And honestly? I can't even say you'd be wrong. 😌