Night had fallen over Clover. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and pine. The moon hung behind drifting clouds, casting patches of silver light across the hill where the Guild Masters' meeting was still underway.
The great hall glowed softly in the distance, laughter and faint chatter spilling from within. But in the woods nearby, a different scene was unfolding.
Hidden behind a thick bush, Kageyama crouched low, clutching something close to his chest. His breathing was uneven — a mix of nerves and desperation.
There they are… all the guild masters of Fiore. If I play the flute here, it's over for them. The perfect chance…
He peeked out cautiously. The clearing was still, save for the rustling leaves and the gentle whisper of the wind. A perfect night — calm, almost peaceful.
And then, out of nowhere, came a soft chuckle.
Kageyama's eyes darted toward the sound.
There, sitting calmly on a rock, hidden between some trees, was a small old man with a semi-bald head, a long mustache, and a round, wrinkled face. He was flipping through a very colorful magazine with an expression of serious concentration.
The cover featured women in swimsuits.
The night breeze fluttered the pages gently.
Kageyama froze. Makarov Dreyar. One of the Ten Wizard Saints. The Guild Master of Fairy Tail.
His blood ran cold.
What's he doing out here… reading that?
He swallowed hard, sweat forming on his temple. The thought of being seen by that man sent shivers down his spine. He tried to back away slowly — step by careful step — but his foot found a branch.
CRACK!
The sound echoed unnaturally loud in the still night.
Makarov looked up lazily, his eyes half-closed, a finger still holding his page open. "Hm?"
Kageyama froze mid-motion. For a moment, their gazes met. Then, realizing there was no escape, he awkwardly straightened, scratching his head and forcing a nervous smile.
"Hehe… good evening there, old man. Nice night, huh?"
Makarov raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching him curiously.
"So, uh," Kageyama stammered, clutching the flute tighter, "you like music? I—I could play you something… really nice."
He lifted the flute slightly, his hand trembling.
Makarov smiled faintly, utterly calm. "Sure," he said with the ease of a man who'd seen everything life had to offer.
Inside, though, he was sweating bullets.
Thank goodness he didn't notice the magazine…
Kageyama hesitated. The night wind brushed his face. The moonlight peeked through the drifting clouds again, bathing the scene in a pale glow. The rustling trees, the calm breathing of the world — it all felt surreal.
He brought the flute closer to his lips.
But his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The memory of earlier flashed before his eyes — Natsu shouting at him to stand up, Lucy's kindness, Erza's terrifying determination, and Gray's silent support.
They saved me… those idiots actually saved me…
The trembling worsened. His knees nearly buckled.
He couldn't do it.
--
Meanwhile, from the road above the hill came the sound of pounding footsteps.
Natsu, Erza, Gray, and Lucy emerged from the shadows of the trees, their faces set in grim determination. They had finally reached Clover's summit — and the sight before them made their hearts lurch.
Kageyama stood in the moonlight, the cursed flute trembling in his grasp. Just a few paces away, Makarov Dreyar — their guild master — faced him calmly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Master…" Lucy breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kageyama raised the flute slightly, his fingers shaking.
Natsu's eyes widened. "He's gonna play it!"
Flames roared to life around his fists as he lunged forward with the others — but before they could take two steps, a swirl of perfumed magic shimmered into the air ahead of them, scattering faint sparkles of pink and blue light.
From the glow stepped a tall, graceful man with long eyelashes, smooth lavender hair, and robes that seemed to shimmer with every movement. He struck a pose as if the moonlight itself were his spotlight, one hand on his hip and the other dramatically extended.
"My, my~ such restless energy at this hour," he sang, voice soft and theatrical. "You children really don't know how to make a graceful entrance, do you?"
Lucy blinked, startled. "Who… who are you?"
The man smiled warmly — dazzlingly. "Bob, darling. Master of the Blue Pegasus guild, purveyor of beauty, balance, and good perfume."
He gave a playful wink that seemed to sparkle on cue. "But you, sweetheart, may call me Bob-sama, if you wish."
Lucy blinked a few times, her brain struggling to process the lavender-haired man's sparkle-infused introduction.
"Uh… Blue Pegasus? The famous beauty guild?" she asked hesitantly, glancing at the others.
Bob nodded proudly, hand on his chest. "The very same, sweetheart. We believe in elegance, self-care, and love that transcends gender and species~."
Lucy forced a shaky smile, unsure whether to bow or run. "R-right… very… inclusive of you."
Gray muttered under his breath, "Yup, definitely him."
Bob twirled a lock of hair between his fingers, turning toward Lucy with a glimmer in his eyes. "You're quite the pretty one yourself, you know. You'd fit right in at Blue Pegasus."
Lucy's face went pale. "Ahaha, no thanks! I—I'm fine where I am!"
Natsu blinked. "What's a Blue Pegasus?"
Erza pinched the bridge of her nose. "Natsu. Not now."
Bob sighed dramatically, waving his fan. "Honestly, Fairy Tail boys—so passionate, so clueless."
"But for now, Shhh~," Bob continued in whispers, placing a finger to his lips. "You'll ruin the atmosphere. Don't you see? Makarov is already handling it."
Erza's eyes narrowed. "You mean to tell me—"
"Darling, please," Bob interrupted, his voice a soothing melody. "He's one of the Ten Wizard Saints. He doesn't need a rescue squad. That old man has stopped more crises than you've had birthdays."
Gray scowled. "And what if he can't stop it this time?"
Bob smiled serenely. "Then he'll die beautifully, and we'll avenge him dramatically. Either way, it'll be fabulous."
Natsu growled, fire flaring hotter. "I'm not gonna just stand here while—"
But Bob's perfume-scented aura flared, creating a gentle barrier of light. It wasn't forceful — yet it carried the weight of a wizard master's magic.
"Trust him," Bob said softly, the showmanship fading for just a moment. "You don't interrupt Makarov when he's being a father."
Erza's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Fine… we'll wait."
The group fell silent, eyes locked on the clearing below.
There, under the moonlight, Makarov and Kageyama spoke quietly — their words carried away by the wind before any of them could hear.
The night air was tense, yet calm — like the world itself was holding its breath.