— — — — — —
"Huh? Observation Haki – Future Vision?"
Kazuma froze for a moment as the system voice echoed in his mind, then it hit him—wasn't that a power from One Piece?
In that world, Observation Haki let a person sense the movements and presence of others without relying on instinct.
At higher levels, it could do all kinds of incredible things—and "Future Vision" was one of its most advanced abilities.
"Observation Haki… Future Vision!"
He decided to give it a try.
His pupils flashed faint red, and an image flickered before his eyes.
...
"Kazuma, if you're a real man, fight me one-on-one! No magic, just fists! A real man's battle!" After stuffing himself full, Natsu was bursting with fighting spirit and pointed right at Kazuma.
"But I'm not really good at close combat," Kazuma replied flatly.
"That's perfect! Take this!" Natsu lunged forward, throwing a fiery punch.
BAM—
—Natsu got instantly knocked out.
"When I say I'm not good at close combat, I mean compared to S-class mages like Erza," Kazuma said, brushing off his hands. "But fighting you? That's child's play."
...
And just like that, the vision faded.
Kazuma blinked, the image dissolving from his mind. He turned his head toward Natsu, who was happily wolfing down his meal nearby.
Without saying a word, he stood up and walked over.
Natsu looked up mid-bite, swallowed the last piece of meat, and stood—clearly about to issue his challenge.
BAM!
Before a single word left his mouth, Kazuma punched him square in the face.
"You idiot," Kazuma muttered, shaking out his hand. "I'm a long-range fighter. You think I'd brawl with you up close? What do you think I am, stupid?"
"I refuse your challenge."
He waved at Happy to drag the unconscious Natsu away, then casually returned to the bar and ordered fried rice.
"Natsu picked a fight with you again on the job?" Mira set down his steaming bowl and tilted her head curiously.
"Nope," Kazuma said, picking up his spoon. "I just had a feeling he'd challenge me after lunch, so I figured I'd deal with it first."
He had a decent grasp of his new power now. Normal Observation Haki could stay active passively—it let him sense things around him without effort.
But Future Vision was different. It took deliberate focus and drained stamina fast, though interestingly, it didn't consume magic at all.
Mira shook her head with a small smile. "That poor guy… but honestly, I can't even say you're wrong. Knowing Natsu, he probably would have done it."
"Exactly." Kazuma nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Mira, actually, I've been meaning to tell you something."
Mira clasped her hands together and gave him a teasing smile. "Sorry, but I'm not looking to date anyone right now."
"What? No! I wasn't gonna say that!" Kazuma nearly choked on his food. "I was going to ask—do you hate me or something? I've been—"
"No." Mira blinked. "Not at all. You're a good guy. Nice personality. I just don't—"
"Mira, can you not interrupt me every single time?" Kazuma cut in, exasperated.
"Okay, okay, my bad! Go on," she said, sticking her tongue out playfully.
"I was saying—do you secretly hate me or what? I've been eating your fried rice for a year now, ever since I joined the guild, and every single time, you dump in a mountain of chili peppers! What did I ever do to deserve that?!"
It wasn't that he hated spicy food—he just couldn't figure out why she went out of her way to torture him with it every time.
Mira crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks slightly. "You forgot what you said the first time you ate my fried rice, didn't you?"
He stared blankly. "What did I say?"
"You said"—she dropped her voice and mimicked him perfectly—"'The fried rice is good, but a little too mild. It'd be even better with some chili.'"
"The next time, I added chili, and you said the exact same thing. So this time, I just poured the whole thing in for you."
Smack!
Kazuma slapped his forehead. "Right… that was just an offhand comment!"
He finally remembered. It had been a throwaway line, nothing serious—but Mira had apparently taken it to heart and had been loading his food with enough spice to melt steel ever since.
She was so sincere about it, it almost made him want to cry.
"Okay, okay, next time, maybe skip the chili. I've been eating your stuff for a year, and I swear my stomach's on strike."
He sighed. "Seriously, how do people in Mexico eat like that every day without burning a hole in their bellies?"
"Even in Fairy Tail, women will be women. Holding a grudge over something this small? Tsk."
"New rule: think twice before you say anything to a woman—especially the beautiful ones."
...
As Kazuma and Mira chatted, the guild doors burst open and a young boy ran in, tears streaming down his face.
"Master!" Romeo cried, rushing to Makarov's side. "My dad still didn't come home! He said he'd be back in three days, but he's still not home!"
Just yesterday, Romeo had been all smiles after Kazuma gave him some pocket money—he'd gone out to buy snacks, excited to welcome his father back from his mission.
But night came and went. No sign of Macao.
And now, worry written all over his face, Romeo had come to the guild for help.
"...Romeo, it's perfectly normal for mages to come back late from missions," Makarov said it calmly, but his face had grown serious. Delays were normal—but usually, they meant something unexpected had happened.
"But—but my dad went to Mount Hakobe! It's so close! Even if he got delayed, he should've been back by now!"
"Please, Master! Could you send someone to help find my dad? I'm really worried about him!"
Romeo's voice cracked, and tears finally spilled over.
"Romeo, stop making a fuss! Your father's a mage—and mages don't need anyone to wipe their noses for them!"
"As the son of a mage, you should know better. Now quit crying and go home for some milk!" Makarov's voice boomed through the guildhall.
"You're a mean old man!"
Romeo shouted back, jumped up, and punched the guild master right in the belly. Then he burst into louder sobs and ran for the door—only to be caught after a few steps.
"Hey, kid," Kazuma said, grabbing him by the collar, "the old man's right. Every mage is strong enough to handle their own missions."
"As comrades, we trust each other to get the job done. Doubting them only insults their pride."
"Your dad's reputation depends on that, so you shouldn't call the master names."
"I… I get it. Master, I'm sorry. I just—can't stop worrying about my dad." Romeo's apology was sincere, but his tears kept flowing. His little heart was aching with fear.
Makarov sat silently, his expression dark. He wasn't angry with Romeo—he was worried about Macao too.
.
.
.