Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DECEMBER

Gray doesn’t get sore from exercise very often anymore. Sometimes his quads will feel tight, or he’ll twist his back a little farther than normal, but his body’s long since been hardened by countless fights and rigorous daily drills. He’ll never be the one to brag about it openly, but he’s in pretty damn good shape.

Now, though—for the first time in years—he can say without a doubt that his eyes are completely, utterly exhausted from training.

The last time he focused this hard was when he first became Ur’s pupil—learning how to conceptualize the volume of an object, studying how things work in order to break them down and reassemble them in his own way. After over a decade, he finds himself reliving that experience, staring harder than ever, trying to understand the intricate mechanisms of what he’s working with.

The only difference this time is that he’s the subject.

Gray watches attentively as the segments of his skin dye themselves onyx black, one by one. He concentrates even harder. Slowly, the color retreats back into the magic sigil on his forearm, returning the surface to its original shade. He heaves an exhausted sigh. Another successful trial. 

He’d been working at this for close to five weeks now—no, maybe six? The days were beginning to blur together, all he knows is that it’s nearing the end of the year. Formerly blue skies had now fully shifted into a perpetual light grey. Errant snowflakes drift through the refreshingly cold air. Every morning it’s freezing outside, just the way Gray likes it. He was much better off for it, too; if he had to endure this while sweating buckets in sweltering heat, there’s no telling how much longer his training would’ve taken.

However, the physical aspect of his training wasn’t even the hardest part, as grueling as it was. To master this magic, he has to exercise his emotional discipline. That is, if he hopes to stand any chance against the darkness consuming him—figuratively and literally. Of all the pills he’s had to swallow from Porlyusica, that was probably the hardest one.

“I can smell that you’ve been living with a girl,” Porlyusica comments, not even looking up from the blood sample she’s analyzing. She lets out a single snide chuckle. “I can also tell you haven’t been getting any action.”

“What?!”

“Hush, boy,” she barks. “I’m working here.”

Gray opens his mouth to respond, but elects to merely grumble back into a slouch. He’s long since learned it’s best to let things lie when it comes to the older woman. The less he fusses, the sooner he can get out of here.

With a sigh, Porlyusica sets the test tube down. She shoots him a sideways glance.

Gray gulps, suddenly self-conscious about his bare chest. “What?”

“What? What?—is that the only word you know how to say?” she scoffs. “I’ve only seen your manners getting worse by the year—for all of you brats.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, shutting his eyes tight so she can’t see him rolling them. Look lady, am I dying or not?!

The doctor clicks her tongue. “Well, there’s nothing deathly wrong with you,” she says, sounding eerily cognizant. There’s no stories about her having the power to read minds, right? “Or rather, nothing yet.”

Gray crosses his arms snugly, practically hugging himself. “Yet?”

“Though it’s nowhere near levels of critical concern, your body is being over-saturated by this new power. And you’re pathetically uneducated about—let alone unprepared for—the channeling technique necessary to facilitate a practical application.”

“Uh…”

She doesn’t hide her eye-roll from him. “In essence: you’re not grown-up enough to use this magic properly.”

“Excuse me?” he bristles. “Not to give you my sob story or anything, but I think I’ve gone through more than enough growing up for the last two decades.”

Sighing once again, Porlyusica starts clearing her desk. Her blasé attitude is really starting to piss him off.

“Yes, of course, you’re a big strong boy now. Certainly you’re capable of staving off a volatile dark magic before it eats away at you from the inside out!” With a pithy thunk each time, she pushes her books back into their place on the shelf. “You’re clearly far more than capable of handling it on your own. My mistake for meddling.”

“Wait, listen, I-I didn’t say all that. I…” He grits his teeth. “I really do need your help.”

“Hm.”

“Seriously. It’s for the good of the world that I get this figured out—for the good of Fairy Tail.”

She hesitates, but only briefly. “Why should I care about that?”

“I…well, I mean,” he wrings his hands. Loke’s voice echoes in his head, older women love a sweet-talking young man. He winces at the thought. No, that’s definitely not the approach he should take here.

Carefully, he continues. “You know, it’d be pretty bad if I lost control in battle or something, and poor Wendy’d have to figure out how to fix me, all on her own. Or worse. That’d break your heart, wouldn’t it?”

“Trying to appeal to my emotional side, eh?” She blows dust off another tome. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Huh?”

Piercing ruby irises leer at him. “Between the two of us, I’d say you’re the one most disconnected from your emotions.”

“Now you really have no idea what you’re talking about,” his brow lowers. “I’ve already had more pain and grief than most people experience in their entire lives.”

Porlyusica turns back to the shelf, proceeding with disinterest as if they’re making idle chatter.

“How often do you sit and linger in your thoughts, knowing your father returned to the world of the living—and yet he neglected to ever reach out to you?”

“Wh—How do you know about that?!”

Thunk. Another book back on the shelf. “What about your Master? How does it make you feel, knowing both she and her daughter gave their lives to protect you?”

“Knock it off!”

Thunk. “How do you feel, knowing Makarov disbanded the guild, thereby dismantling the only family you have left?”

Gray growls in fury, leaping to his feet. “I said—”

Porlyusica whips around to face him, the quickest he’s ever seen her move. “Now, take a look at your body.”

The command stops him in his tracks, his gaze slowly moving downwards. Sure enough: jet-black markings wind up his arm like trails of flame. He struggles to breathe.

The doctor moves to examine him up close. Her touch feels like freezer burn.

“Surely a smart boy like you can see the cause-and-effect here.”

He tries to form words, but his voice is lost to him. A chill runs down his spine.

Seeing him speechless, Porlyusica elaborates. “If maker magic is tied to your logical memories, your mind, then demon-slaying magic is tied to your emotional memories. That is to say, your heart.” She pokes at his chest, and it sends him staggering backwards. “A muscle which, from what I can gather, you barely give the time of day.”

“That’s not—I don’t…” Gray wets his lips, suddenly feeling dehydrated. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” She quirks an eyebrow. “All of the statements I made were abject truth. Painful facts, but facts nonetheless.” She gathers a handful of documents, tapping them on the table to even them out. “Those events all happened to you, plain and simple. But—most importantly—they happened in the past. Meaning you have this time in the present to recognize their effects.”

“Their effects? Are you saying this darkness is coming from my memories?”

The woman all but snorts. “No, you dolt. There’s darkness in the magic because it’s dark magic.”

“So, then—”

She holds out the stack of documents, prompting him to observe her. “Look at it this way: all of these pages are about ailments from poison—”

She pulls out a desk drawer, fishing out a yellow folder, then a violet folder.

“—should I leave all these documents scattered about on my desk?”

When he doesn’t respond, she beckons at him with a glare.

“Uh, no? You should…put them away?”

“Correct. Now, seeing as they’re all about poison, should I place them in the ‘Venereal Parasites’ folder--” she waves the paper over the yellow folder, “--or the ‘Poison’ folder?” She waves with greater emphasis over the violet folder.

“The poison folder, obviously,” he frowns. “What’s this got to do with me, though?”

“All your painful memories…have you ever put a name to them? Do you think they’re positive or negative?”

“Negative, obviously.”

She gathers the rest of the papers from her desk. “How so? Do you feel guilty, embarrassed, angry—what folder do they belong in?”

Gray’s breath hitches. “They’re just bad—I feel bad.”

“A rotten egg is bad. The memory of your master’s death deserves to be treated with respect, and with recognition for how it truly affected you.”

He draws a shaky breath. A distant clock ticks, the sound booming through the nearly silent house. His eyes shut tight.

“I guess…I guess guilty would be the word for it, yeah.”

“What about your father, and the memory of him disappearing just as you’d reunited?”

He swallows, the knot in his throat almost painful. “It—it feels like…Anger. Regret.”

“And the guild’s disbandment?”

“That…” He lets out a fragile laugh. “That feels like good old-fashioned betrayal.”

“Now open your eyes, and take a look at your arm.”

As the world comes back into focus, he can see his flesh-toned arm in front of him clear as day. His body was back to normal.

Even with partially blurred vision, he swears he can see a smirk creep onto the doctor’s face.

“Well, well. I guess you can be taught.”

Brushing the frost off a nearby tree stump, Gray sits to catch his breath. Finally, he’s starting to feel in control of his newly acquired magic—or, at least, almost in control. The power seems to have a mind of its own, ready to burst forth at any moment, with no limit to how much damage he can inflict. Not just to others, but to himself as well.

Was this how his father liked it? Did he train it to be as vicious as possible, forgoing all moderation in order to push his limits—and push closer to his goal?

Not like Gray would ever know. All he can do is hold on to the brief memory of reuniting with his father, and try to work with the little information he’s got.

If he had to put it simply, using his new magic is like using a faucet. To start it, he has to unearth a strong negative emotion and let the feeling wash over him. To stop it? Well, that’s the difficult part.

Letting out a slow breath, he tucks his current emotion, anger—indignant rage at his father for not giving him a damn instruction manual for this crap—back into the bookcase of his mind. It happened, and it sucks, but getting pissed off about it now won’t do me any good.

It’s enough to make him laugh out loud. How’s that for emotionally unequipped, you old hag?!

He flexes his fingers. His skin no longer burns from the intensity of exertion. Now it’s nothing more than a slight prickling and numbness under his fingernails, like his arm fell asleep. Soon enough, he’ll be able to let it loose with no issue—and, more importantly, annihilate a certain demon. He wipes the sweat from his brow.

It definitely didn’t hurt that his new “pals” in the Avatar cult were quite impressed by his little tricks. He’s so close to breaking into their ranks he can taste it.

The morning sun begins to peek over the mountains, and Gray shields his eyes. Though his training is nowhere near done for the day, he’d have to call it good for now. It was time for breakfast; his stomach growls in agreement.

Unfortunately, a whole other slew of problems wait for him inside the walls of the house—first and foremost being the pair of dark eyes peering at him through the curtains of a bedroom window. More precisely: the woman they belong to.

Their gazes meet but for a moment. Then, like a shadow, Juvia disappears.

It’s a bit colder indoors than it should be. He would have to chop some firewood later that day. Cautious footsteps patter from down the hall, and Gray sucks in a breath.

Juvia slowly emerges from around the corner. She’s still dressed in her pajamas—a nondescript two-piece set—with a thin black robe to keep her warm. Something about the visual makes his heart ache.

Not now. Keep it on the table, it doesn’t belong on the shelf.

“Good morning, my…” Juvia hesitates. “Good morning, Gray.”

“Hey,” he says, wishing he was dead. “‘Morning.”

They both awkwardly stand in place, shifting their weight, anxious to see who’ll move first.

“Um,” Gray clears his throat. “Yeah.”

The best part of all? It’s been like this for weeks. At least the rain didn’t last into December.

He lights the stovetop. For a good while, they kept up their meal routine. But now…

“‘Ya want me to make you something today? We’ve got enough eggs for two omelettes.”

Juvia’s hands brush over the surface of the kitchen table. “I’m alright for now. I can make something for myself once I’m finished with the laundry.” Without using so many words, her implication is clear: Don’t bother worrying about me. “I’ll be sure to add eggs to my grocery list before leaving for town today.”

“…Sounds good, thanks.”

The flames of the burner tremble and flicker until they die completely.

“Add a new fire lacrima to the list, too.”

Winter’s chill grew by the day, but it was nothing compared to the frigidity growing between him and Juvia. In the aftermath of Gray missing their ‘anniversary’, he and Juvia had fallen into a feedback loop of sorts, neither of them brave enough to step on the other’s toes. What was starting to feel like a home had become nothing more than a scarcely shared living space. Jobs had picked up for Juvia, and Gray was taking on more and more covert missions in the Avatar investigation.

He couldn’t say he was unhappy. How could he? Not when he built this coffin himself.

In the middle of cleaning up his meager breakfast, a sound rings out through the house, one he hasn’t heard in a long time: a knock at the front door.

“That’s…weird,” he murmurs. “Uh, Juvia? Are you expecting someone?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She eyes him in confusion. “I’ve never told anyone about where we live.”

His heartbeat picks up. Had the Avatar people been tailing him? Whenever he leaves, he’s always on high alert for potential trackers, but…

He steps in front of Juvia, speaking quietly. “Let me get it. It could be dangerous.”

“No, let me do it—my magic is quicker than yours.”

His eye twitches. “Yeah, but I’m bigger, not to mention harder to knock down. You can hide behind me, and I’ll take the brunt of any blow.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Juvia recoils in offense. “My body is made of water—if anyone’s better at handling a direct hit, it’s me.”

“I—Look,” he says, gripping the bridge of his nose in frustration. “That…that came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is—”

Another, more insistent knock interrupts their exchange. Instinctively, he and Juvia scoot in close to each other.

“…Fine,” Gray sighs. “We’ll do it together.”

In combat formation, they inch their way to the door. Gray places his hand on the knob, glancing at Juvia one last time before he turns it. Juvia gives him a confident nod. He slowly pulls the door open, bracing himself for whatever may come.

In front of them stands Lyon, his knuckles poised to knock a third time.

The man instantly bursts out laughing, the brassy baritone of his voice echoing in the silence. Gray’s face instantly heats up by five degrees.

“My, you sure know how to provide a hospitable greeting,” Lyon snickers. His expression falters upon noticing Juvia beside him. “I see the rumors were true: you really are living together.”

Gray sputters. “What are you doing here?!”

“What, I can’t pay a visit to some old friends?” The edges of Lyon’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. It has been a while since they’ve seen each other; only now does Gray notice the faint wrinkles worn into Lyon’s defined features. Something about Lyon being in his late twenties now makes Gray’s mouth taste bitter. 

Lyon continues, “It doesn’t seem like you two were very busy.”

“We are, actually,” Gray retorts. “It’s not like we sit around twiddling our thumbs all day. We have a whole list of things to take care of before dark.”

Lyon’s smile doesn’t budge. “My apologies for not sending a letter ahead of time. I won’t keep you long. I simply have a proposition for you—either of you.” At that last part, he gives a pointed look to Juvia.

Gray’s insides churn. He opens his mouth to give an incredibly eloquent two-word response, but—

“Would you like to come inside for some tea?” Juvia asks.

Lyon pulls out the same punchable smirk as always. “Would I ever.”

He’s had to ask Lyon to repeat himself twice already. Not for the subject matter, and certainly not out of any confusion. Definitely not so they can hear his annoying voice any more than necessary. Gray would normally have no issue comprehending Lyon’s request for him and Juvia…if he could pay any attention to the words being said.

Unfortunately, Gray’s too caught up in watching to do any listening at all. There’s no way he can ignore Lyon ogling Juvia when her back is turned, or Juvia smiling and laughing at every word Lyon says, or the way they sit looking so completely and utterly wrong next to each other.

Where does this guy get off, thinking he can brush his fingertips over the back of Juvia’s hand so casually, like they’re the ones that are guildmates? He doesn’t know her like that—he doesn’t know her at all! Gray focuses all his attention on keeping his eyelids wide open, lest they twitch. Maybe it would’ve been better if their visitor had been an assassin after all. At least he’d be able to let out the negative energy festering within him, instead of having to sit politely at the table just about ready to heap his fucking lid.

Lyon’s voice is soft when he speaks to Juvia, softer than Gray’s ever heard. Even worse, he hangs onto her every word, tilting his head in her direction like Gray’s not even there. This sucks so bad.

“I still don’t understand, why do you need us to do this job?” Juvia says. Gray’s ears perk up. Job?

Lyon sighs. “Lamia Scale is spread thin right now. Without your guild around, many of our wizards have begun to pick up jobs from the greater Magnolia area—”

“So here you are asking for help, when this job should’ve been ours to begin with?!”

“Gray!” Juvia barks. “There’s no reason to be rude.”

Lyon emits a discomfited laugh, his gaze darting between the two of them. “Er, yes, I wholeheartedly concur. I’m well aware this would normally fall under Fairy Tail’s purview, which is why I’m turning to you for aid.” He pulls a leaflet from his pocket. “The request is specifically for two or more people, but we’re understaffed at the moment. My initial thought was to enlist Gray as my partner—”

“Pfft, partner? Us Fairy Tail wizards eat giant quests for breakfast. I guarantee I could solo it.”

“…But knowing you’re an option, Juvia, I believe you would be much better suited for this mission, if not a perfect fit.”

“Me?” Juvia flushes.

“Yeah, of course you’d think that,” Gray spits, “and your opinion totally isn’t biased at all.”

Lyon narrows his eyes. “I assure you my reasoning is entirely objective, no ulterior motives whatsoever. As I said, my original plan was to ask for your help. However,” he slides the Help Wanted poster across the table, “if you’d take even a second to listen, I’m sure you’d agree.”

The paper is unadorned, sporting nothing but text—typically the sign of a rush to get the word out, rather than enticing those seeking gold or glory. Gray skims keywords: dam broke, town flooded, many injured. It’s not unusual to see things like this on guild bulletin boards. For natural disasters and other freak accidents, the only thing that can make up for the lack of manpower is a wizard’s magic. Most mages will do, but only a water specialist is able to properly address the problem with urgency and efficiency.

Lyon is right. This is the perfect job for Juvia. She studies the paper with a deep frown.

Understanding must have been evident from their expressions, because Lyon’s already nodding before resuming his explanation. “With winter closing in, I figured an ice wizard would be appropriate. However, if Juvia were to be by my side, I’d likely be more of a bodyguard than anything.” The words ‘by my side’ feel loaded with emotion and significance. Juvia told him that Lyon’s long since given up on her, but…

“So, then,” her breath hitches, “it would be you and I alone, Lyon?”

Gray’s stomach lurches hearing her speak his name.

“Yes, if you’re—”

“No way.”

“Gray!”

Lyon’s glare at him could shatter glass. “Can you not see how selfish you’re—”

“I’ll go with Juvia. I don’t trust her with you; we have more experience working together, and better synergy too,” Gray responds with an even fiercer glare. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how we wiped the floor with you and Chelia at the last Grand Magic Games.”

“Oh…” Juvia’s voice is quivering, a beautiful blush spreading over her cheeks. “Oh, darling!”

Lyon studies him for a moment under a deeply furrowed brow.

“…Fine, if that’s what you believe to be the best course of action.” He slowly rises from his seat. “But remember that this isn’t about some petty squabble or politicking; these are people in desperate need.”

“Right!” Juvia bursts out of her chair as well, the most energetic he’s seen her all month. “If time is of the essence, then we’ll be leaving straightaway!”

Gray blinks, registering her words. “Wait, you mean right now?”

He turns to face her, but she’s already flying down the hallway to pack her bags. There’s a tingling feeling in his chest, though he can’t tell if it’s excitement or unease.

“Gray.” Lyon says, still staring daggers. His lips press into a tight grimace.

Gray rolls his eyes. “What?”

“You know that you mean a great deal to me, right?”

That gives him pause. “Uh…yeah, man,” he sniffs. “The feeling is mutual.”

Lyon turns away from him, voice barely above a murmur. “You’ve never been afraid to confront me when I’m out of line, and straighten me out when I’ve strayed from the path of light. I deeply respect and value that about you.”

There’s a small pang of feeling in the scar embedded on his midriff. “Yeah…?”

Black-as-pitch pupils meet his. “Then I hope you won’t mind me saying this…” 

The room grows icy cold. A thin layer of frost spreads across the kitchen table.

“…if you break Juvia’s heart any more than you already have, you’re dead to me.”

In all honesty, he’d expected Juvia’s rekindled vibrancy to fade as soon as they were out of Lyon’s sight. However, much to his relief, something about the exchange brought Juvia bouncing back to life, eager to get to the village as soon as possible.

Even with the compounding guilt and dread eating away at him, even if her cheery attitude was a façade…it makes him happy to see her smiling again.

She leans against his arm as they walk, examining the map on the job poster’s backside. Though they both sport winter coats, the contact still warms his skin. It’s pathetic how fast his heart is racing.

Juvia looks to the horizon. “The village seems to be just past the mountains, over this way.” She gestures to the distance to illustrate. The only thing he can look at is her hand—her elegant fingers, her well-maintained nails…he feels an impulse to take her hand in his, see how well it fits in his palm.

He buries his hands in his pockets. “So, about a day’s journey, then. Looks like we’ll have to figure out some overnight lodging.”

“Correct,” she sighs. “Although…that could prove to be difficult.”

“Why?”

“You really don’t know…?” She blinks at him, confused. “It’s December 30th. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, my love.”

“Oh, shit, I didn't even realize…” His thumbs trace over his knuckles. All of Avatar’s plans for ‘next year’ were soon to be in action.

“Don’t worry!” Juvia pumps her fists in front of her chest. “I’ll get everything in order just fine!”

“I, uh, feel like I should be the one to take care of that.” A crooked smile emerges onto his face. “Being your bodyguard and all.”

“N-No, you needn’t trouble yourself.” Her cheeks flush. “If I’m the one leading this mission, it should be my responsibility to manage our logistics as well!”

“Oh, so you’re saying you’re the star of this show, and I’m just the back-up?”

Her face burns ever brighter. “That’s not—No, I—!”

He can’t help but crack up. “I’m just playing around, no need to get worked up.”

Juvia responds with an exasperated groan. His pace slows.

“But seriously, Juvia…I can take care of it. This is probably gonna be a lot of work for you, so I swear I’ll do my part to help.” Before he realizes what he’s doing, his tongue darts out to wet his lips, “…In any way I can.”

Her breath hitches. “…You swear?”

His heart beats against his ribs like a bass drum. Truth be told, he’s ready to die for her—then again, he’s willing to die for just about anything.

“I do.”

Though her eyes remain apprehensive, a shy smile tugs at her lips.

“All right. If you insist.”

He gives her a nod before turning his attention back to the path ahead. This time, they sit comfortably in the silence. They walk close in step, their shoulders brushing every so often.

They could smell the village long before they saw it. Nothing putrid or rotten, thankfully, but most definitely damp, almost mildewy. Despite being tucked away in the highlands, it felt like they were advancing toward a swamp. The closer they got, the more mud squelched beneath their boots. 

Cresting over a hill, they see the damage for themselves at last.

At first, he thinks the place is coated in tall layers of dirty snow. Right as his eyes adjust, Juvia gasps. The sheets of white aren’t from snowfall—they’re literal sheets. Makeshift tents litter every expanse of dry land, each one clearly a hasty attempt at abating the harsh winter elements. Nearly every building is wrecked down to the foundations, with only a few still standing—all of which had to be flooded at least three feet deep. Former roads had turned into inert rivers, debris floating along them like a parade of broken memories.

His heart sinks. Though the specifics are different, he’s all too familiar with what a town looks like when it’s completely razed.

Juvia starts towards the town without sparing him a glance, sliding down the ridge with ease. He follows—with great effort—steeling himself for the worst.

“Hey, anybody there? We’re here about the request for aid?” His call carries easily through the clearing, but not a soul emerges to greet them. “Hey!”

“Gray, over here!” Juvia bounds over to the biggest tent, a larger structure made of sturdier canvas. A harried-looking older woman emerges through the door flap. She blocks the sun with her hand, watching them descend.

“Thank the heavens, I was worried no one would ever show.” The woman says. Gray can see her shoulders lower in relief, though her neck remains stiff. “My name’s Ema, I’m the village doctor—or, at least, as close to one as we can get right now.”

“Where are the townsfolk?” Juvia asks, her voice measured and tentative. 

“Most are further up the mountain, collecting any dry firewood we can find,” she sighs. “Others are…downstream.”

Ema doesn’t elaborate, not when her grim eyes finish the thought for her. They’re looking for bodies.

Juvia’s hand brushes against the tent. “Is this where the wounded are staying?”

Ema nods. “I don’t suppose either of ‘ya know healing magic.”

“We don’t, but we can try sending someone your way as soon as possible,” Gray steps in, overcoming the knot in his throat. “We’re here to help with the water.”

“Oh?” Ema’s eyes narrow. “I figured you two were sent by Lamia Scale. But if you’re just here to bail out the town, you could’ve at least brought your own buckets.”

“No, listen, we can—she can help move the water out of the town. With magic.” He gestures to the water mage, who is…lost in thought, apparently. He laughs nervously under Ema’s sour expression. Seems he doesn’t have the best of luck with doctors. “Uh, Juvia?”

Juvia blinks. “May we take a look inside, first?”

“Hm…” Ema studies Juvia for a second. “Sure. If you wish.”

Albeit confused, Gray follows Juvia without hesitation. The scene that greets them is grim—though, not shocking in the slightest. Rows upon rows of incapacitated and injured reside on a dirty tarp floor. Some cough like they can’t free the liquid from their lungs. Others lie without any acknowledgment, thin white bedsheets covering them, their only sign of life being the slow rise and fall of their chests. Gray shivers.

A child no taller than his knee watches them tentatively, their arm wrapped in a makeshift splint. The kid’s dressed in a ratty, oversized T-shirt, unbrushed hair almost covering their dark eyes. Gray’s stomach twists. It’s like looking into a mirror, sixteen years ago.

Juvia wordlessly takes in the room, a frown heavy on her lips. He knows this look all too well. In this moment, he’s invisible to her.

“I didn’t know Lamia Scale had a water mage,” Ema comments from the threshold.

“Oh, we’re not—I mean,” Gray stammers, trying to find a delicate way to phrase Our guild doesn’t exist anymore and we still don’t know why. “Right now we’re, uh, sort of independent…vigilantes…”

Ema glares. “None of us are in the mood for jokes, boy.”

“No, listen, er—”

Juvia cuts in between them. “We’re wizards of Fairy Tail.” Her eyes blaze with a solemn resolve. “And we’ll get the job done.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Juvia could’ve done this job on her own. From the moment they exit the medical tent, she sets herself straight to work clearing out the drowned village. 

Meanwhile, the best help that Gray can provide is none at all. How can one possibly measure up against a force of nature?

In almost a ritualistic dance, Juvia pushes and pulls with the water pooled around her, manipulating it like an extension of herself. Magicked streams fly like ribbons through the air, returning to the rivers and creeks where they rightfully belong; every placement is confident and deliberate, as if she knows each waterway as well as the veins in her own body. Her chest heaves with effort.

Townsfolk emerge from the hills and woods, congregating and curious to see what’s happening. Most speak in hushed whispers, but Gray’s ear catches on the more excited comments.

“She’s doing all that by herself?”

“I didn’t know wizards could do magic like this.”

“Does this mean we can move back into our house, Ma?”

Slivers of yellow sunlight emerge from behind the clouds. A chorus of awed exclamations erupts as Juvia lobs a giant wave through the air, blanketing a faraway forest with rain. Clouds of vapor twinkle like falling glitter, and a gentle rainbow slowly suspends above the town. If he squints, the sight almost reminds him of the water show at Ryuzetsu Land.

All the while, he can’t look away from Juvia, and the sweat gleaming on her furrowed brow.

Ema slowly shuffles to his side. She releases a slow, overwrought sigh. A glint of life shines in her eyes now—a small one, but a glimmer nonetheless.

“She makes it look easy,” she murmurs.

Gray gives her a short smile. “Yeah, she really does. But…”

“But it isn’t,” Ema finishes with a shake of her head. “It never is.”

Despite their lack of…well, everything, the villagers still managed to drum up a small celebration for them. He and Juvia shared the last of their boar jerky, and the women brewed up a giant’s serving of hearty stew. Drums were fashioned from tanned deer-hide, elders cleared their throats to croon, and whistles were whittled for the children. Someone even managed to fish out a miraculously unscathed cask of wine.

As soon as the party starts, a crowd forms around Juvia with practically the entire village cycling in and out, every person lauding her with praise and gratitude. Children run up with hastily-fashioned flower crowns, and grown men wail with tears of joy. With every small glimpse he catches of Juvia, her cheeks look redder and redder.

He grins with pride. This is what being a wizard is all about.

Their work today was only the beginning. There’s still homes to be rebuilt, and countless wounds to heal. For now, though, they all rejoice for newfound hope and make merry late into the night. He dances with children, dances with Ema, dances with all their new friends until his hands find Juvia’s.

Normally, she’d squeak and babble at the unexpected contact. However, all she offers this time is a soft, tired smile.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hello,” she replies. “Your hands are cold.”

“So are yours.”

People swing and twirl in pairs around them, but they stay standing in the middle of it all. For some reason, he can’t bring himself to let go.

And so, they dance until he’s sure she’s warm again. Not as spirited as everyone else, and certainly without a good sense of rhythm, but they stay each other’s partners until the music stops.

Before they know it, the moon is high in the sky. As soon as their hands part, a child runs up to tug on Juvia’s sleeve. She kneels to listen, then nods sweetly.

“The children in the medical tent are asking for me to sing them a lullaby,” she explains.

He gives her a reassuring nod, then watches as the kid gleefully drags her along, Juvia just barely keeping up. Ema saunters to his side.

“Your girlfriend’s awfully popular.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. We’re partners—partners in work.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She finishes the last few drops of wine in her mug. “How long are you two business partners planning on sticking around?”

“Just for today. I was planning on renting us a couple inn rooms for the night—do you know any around here? I didn’t see any on the trip over.”

Ema looks at him with bemusement. “Inn room? Boy, the reason you didn’t see any is because there are none. This is the only village for miles.”

His face falls. You had one job, Fullbuster!

She cracks a smile dripping with sick satisfaction. It seems there’s not a single reality where he doesn’t make an idiot of himself in front of a woman.

“Let me guess,” he grumbles. “You’ve got an idea, but I’m not gonna like it.”

And so, Gray lies catatonic on the far side of a bedroll, trying his damndest to keep as far away from Juvia as possible.

The collar of his shirt itches at his neck—as does the waistband of his jeans—but there’s no way in hell he’d let himself sleep in his usual pajamas. Not with Juvia barely an arms length away. 

“You sure you’re not peeking?” Juvia coos, a giggle sprinkled in between her words. His ears ring from the sound of her clothes rustling and sliding while she undresses.

“For the last time, I swear I’m not,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “I still don’t see why I couldn’t have waited outside for this.”

Another teasing laugh. “I couldn’t leave you out in the cold, dear!”

Gray’s mind frantically searches for the biggest turn-off he can conjure up, settling on the time he had to clean the guild’s kitchen sink—even the mere thought of the cold, slimy remnants of food is enough to sicken him. Perfect.

“So, then, are you ready for me to turn off the light?” The blankets shift as she crawls into bed. Already, he can feel her warmth radiating beside him.

Gray grits his teeth. As the tension grows between his legs, suddenly that horrific memory feels more distant by the second.

“Yeah, go ahead.” He manages to muster a nonchalant chuckle. “I’m surprised you’re still awake, with everything you did today.”

Juvia gives a small hum at that. After a few moments of hesitation, he hazards a glance at her.

“You good, Juvia?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies,” she answers, her smile not reaching her eyes. Before he can protest, she douses their small gas lamp with a flick of her finger.

The proceeding silence weighs much heavier than the sparse bedding covering them. Gray turns onto his back. This feels weird—and not in the usual way.

“Juvia…” he starts. Words quickly fail him, however, leaving her name hanging in the air like an accusation. He bites his tongue.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t about to forget wishing you goodnight! Let me finish getting comfortable first—”

“N-no, it’s not that. I just…” he swallows, hesitating. Things are finally getting back to normal, why am I trying to make it awkward again?

Gray sighs.  Then again, it’s not as if things have ever been normal with Juvia.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay, I guess.”

Now fully settled, Juvia stills on her side of the bedroll. Her voice echoes off the side of the tent—her back is turned to him.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I could think of quite a few reasons, including the one laying right next to you.

“You seem…off, is all. You basically saved the town all on your own, but…it doesn’t seem like you’re feeling any sense of accomplishment, I guess.”

There’s a lengthy pause before she responds. “I was merely doing my job. I don’t need praise for doing the bare minimum.”

“I’d say you did way more than that. I mean, without you they’d still have a town that’s three feet underwater. I think it’s okay for you to feel at least a little proud.”

She mumbles something incoherent. Gray rolls to face her.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

Juvia sucks in a tense gasp—did she find a bug in the tent? Then comes a sniffle, and a hiccup, and a sob. Gray’s blood runs cold.

“It’s my fault.”

“What? W-wait, Juvia, hey—”

On reflex, he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. She recoils from his touch.

“I did this. These people’s lives were ruined because of me,” she continues. “I didn’t save anyone or anything—I was just cleaning up my own mess.”

“What are you talking about? There’s no way you caused this flood, it was the—”

“The dam,” Juvia says, voice hollow and broken. “The dam burst because of me. Because of my rain.”

Diffused moonlight leaks through the fabric of their tent, just barely illuminating their bodies.  Dumbstruck and immobilized, Gray lays propped up on his elbows, listening to her weep into her pillow. 

“…Listen, it couldn’t have been your fault,” he affirms as gently as he can. “It was autumn, it was gonna rain no matter what. And you heard the townsfolk, that dam was old.”

She sobs even harder. “I couldn’t control my emotions. Even now—I don’t have any right to be crying.”

Gray’s heart drops to his stomach. This goes far, far deeper than just today, than just this town.

He leans back with a sigh. Slowly, he works up the courage to reach for her hand. She doesn’t struggle when his fingers wrap around hers.

Voice hushed and hoarse, he murmurs, “When did you first know about your water magic?”

It takes a few seconds for her to catch her breath. He squeezes her hand.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always known it was part of me. As for the effect it had on everyone else…” She rasps a rueful laugh. “I wouldn’t become fully aware until I was four or five.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing in particular. At least, nothing that I can remember.” Even in the darkness, he can clearly picture the sad smile behind her words. “I only remember my parents being upset with me—upset that I was upset. I ruined their day.”

“I’ve…never actually heard you talk about your parents. To be honest, I assumed you were an orphan like the rest of us in the guild.”

“No, they’re still alive and well,” she replies. “As far as I know, that is.”

Juvia grips his hand, unraveling into a fit of sobs once more. “I’m sorry, I must sound so selfish right now, complaining about my family when—”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m the one that asked. From what I can already tell, it seems like your folks were assholes.”

“Th-they’re not—I wouldn’t say that,” Juvia balks. “They simply…have high standards, I suppose.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Standards?”

“Well, my family is…was quite wealthy, you see. From birth, I was caught in the middle of a bitter feud over inheritance. My parents wanted a perfect daughter, one who could lead the family with honor. One who wouldn’t be cause for any disappointment or shame, and certainly not one with an uncontrollable penchant for catastrophic weather.”

He hums. “So they’re a bunch of snobs that made you feel like shit for being a human being.”

“That’s not…” her voice breaks. “I could never say something like that.”

“Well, I sure as hell can.”

“They did their best with me,” her breath hitches. “But…”

“But?”

“I tried my hardest to control my magic, abate the feelings that would bring the torrential downpours, but…in the end, it was clear they saw me as nothing more than a waste of time and resources.” She struggles to push the words out, her voice tight with strain. “Eventually, after one too many embarrassments, I was deemed a lost cause.”

Gray’s chest tightens. “What do you mean?”

“One night, I overheard my parents speaking to one another.” Her voice strains like she’s wounded, her words coming out slow and painful. “They conversed, as they always did, about who would be chosen as heir to the fortune. This time, however, there was a finality to their words. My grandparents were growing old, and the rest of the family was growing desperate. So…a deal of sorts had been struck.”

“A deal?”

“Yes,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I would be married to my cousin, thereby securing a guaranteed fraction of the wealth for my side of the family. Either that, or I would be cast out to the street, erased from the family tree for good.”

A fiery-hot rage blooms in his chest. “That’s…that’s evil.”

She laughs in cold detachment. “I thought the same. That night, I absconded without another word, and ended up joining Phantom Lord at the age of fifteen.” The pad of her thumb idly rubs his knuckles. “Funny how in the end, I traded one evil for another.”

With her background aired out, suddenly the full image of Juvia falls into place. Her posh manner of speaking, all the countless things she’d never tried—hell, even the childhood ballet lessons. Most of all: her undeniable, profound loneliness when they first met.

“I…I’m so sorry you went through all that.”

“Please, don’t be. I led a life of privilege, and willingly gave it up.” He can hear her hand sliding across her cheek, brushing away streaks of tears. “I don’t reveal my secrets so I can be pitied; if anything, it’s the opposite.”

“Are you kidding? Juvia, the way your family treated you was terrible—”

“But I had one. I had everything that one could ever ask for.”

“Except love,” Gray interjects, louder than he meant to, instantly regretting it. That one word pollutes the air, making discomfort seep into his pores like acid. His mind fills with a cacophony of self deprecation until Juvia’s voice cuts through like a blade.

“What about you, then?”

“What about me?”

“Do you not think me deplorable for casting aside the family I had when you’ve lost everything?” Her voice shakes. “I saw the pain in your eyes today. After learning that my family is alive and well, that my cursed magic is the reason for this devastation, that I…”

She wrests her hand from his grasp.

“…that I bring nothing but hardship to anyone that knows me, it’s my own fault if you choose to never speak to me again. I deserve to be abandoned.”

Gray’s insides shatter. Once again, he finds himself looking into a twisted, horrific mirror.

“Don’t cry, Juvia, please. This is my fault, not yours.”

“Did you not hear me?! I said—”

“If there’s anyone to blame here, it’s me,” he all but shouts. They’re lucky they set up camp so far into the woods. “I’m the piece of shit that made you cry, okay? You wouldn’t be so worried about flooding the town if I hadn’t been such a dick to begin with. I got so caught up in my own drama that I hurt you, badly, and I—”

The honest words spill from him without warning, as do the tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole to you—and don’t tell me there’s no need to apologize, because we both know it’s true.” He wipes his face fiercely despite the shroud of darkness. “My baggage has nothing to do with you. I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I…I hope you can forgive me someday.”

This time, she reaches for his hand. Their fingers intertwine as Juvia guides their heads back down to their pillows. His shoulders shake from biting back sobs.

“…Do you miss your family, Gray?”

That breaks him.

There’s at least a full minute of nothing but inconsolable sobbing. From him, and from Juvia. He clings to her hand like a lifeline.

“I do. I really do,” he sniffs and chokes out a laugh. “What about you?”

She laughs too. “I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I miss—” Her voice cracks. “I miss Gajeel. I miss Cana, and Mirajane. I miss Levy, and the way she always knew the perfect book to recommend me.” She curls towards him, her forehead pressing against their hands. “I even miss Lucy, and all her terrible advice.”

By now, his pillow is cold and wet from tears. His head sinks into it all the same. “Me too. I miss Makarov. And Loke, and—damn it all, I even miss Natsu.”

“But I…” she draws in a shaky breath, “I’m glad I have you with me, my sweet Gray.”

Just to see what it feels like, he lets her words wash over him. It brings a couple more tears, but…it feels nice. A small bud of hope swells from deep within his heart. Maybe, just maybe, they’d be able to work things out after all.

Their knees knock together as Gray turns on his side.

“I’m glad you’re with me too, Juvia.”

“Oooh, I swear it’s getting colder by the minute!” Juvia tugs her hat down to cover her ears. “We’re lucky to have so much firewood stocked up. It feels like it became winter almost overnight!”

“Yeah, it gets like that in the mountains,” he replies fondly. “You’re sure you don’t want my jacket?”

She shakes her head, followed by an unconvincing Brr! that almost steals a laugh from him. “No, no, we’re almost home, it’s not worth the trouble.”

“After everything you did yesterday, I’d say you’re far more than worth it.”

A gentle smile blooms across her face. “…You’re going to make me blush—ah, wait, that’s the perfect way to keep me warm!” She latches onto his side. “Whisper more sweet nothings to me, my darling, so I may burn hot enough to keep us both warm!”

“Yeah, not happening.”

“It was worth a try,” she grumbles with an exaggerated pout. This time, he can’t help but chuckle. She really is so cute.

Their walk back home seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye. Maybe because it was so peaceful, or maybe because their conversation came so easily. Gray forgot how much he loved long treks like this. It’s barely been six months since his team was last together, but those times already feel like they were a million years ago. Even still, despite how different it is to travel alongside Juvia—it’s slower, more intimate, and much calmer—today’s journey felt as familiar as it was pleasant.

He adjusts his posture, letting Juvia’s arm loop comfortably around his. Maybe change isn’t such a bad thing, says a voice in his head. It sounds like Ur.

“If possible,” Juvia ventures, “I’d prefer to have the first bath when we return, if you don’t mind.”

He dares to tease. “Brought up too refined to rough it outdoors, huh?”

“N-no, that’s not—” She gives him a light, petulant push. “Now, what if that was something I was sensitive about?”

“Are you?”

Another pout. “...No, just embarrassed.”

He adjusts his hands in his pockets. The motion pulls her closer, but only a little. “What for?”

“For not being as humble as I should be, I guess.” She lets out a small sigh. “Lucy was raised with a much larger silver spoon than me, but one would never know that about her unless they were told.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have known you came from wealth if you hadn’t told me. And I’d say you’re just as humble as everyone else in Fairy Tail. Probably too humble, honestly.”

Juvia smiles again, rosy color dusting her cheeks. “So…you think I fit in, then.”

He smirks. “’Course you do. Especially right now—you’re as broke as any upstanding member of Fairy Tail. Even if you combine both our wallets.”

“Yes, quite.” She flashes a grin. “No matter what, though, we’ll always have more money than Gildarts!”

That pulls laughter from both of them. This feels nice. This feels so nice.

It’s almost disappointing to see their roof peek out from the horizon. Still, their luggage weighs heavy on their shoulders. Despite all the ups and downs while they’ve lived here, Gray’s really coming to love this house. Maybe even because of those ups and downs.

Juvia parts from him and readjusts her travel bag, preparing for the final downhill stretch. “Oh dear, I just remembered we’re running low on firewood.”

“Don’t worry, I got it. There’s…quite a few trees I’ve knocked down recently.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. What a way to ruin a perfect day.

“About that,” Juvia frowns. He already knows where this is going. “I still wish to know about those marks—”

Guilt gnaws at him. While he’s astounded his ‘anniversary’ excuse somehow worked, he’s yet to cough up a good explanation for his new magic. Nonchalance and misdirection have been his go-to strategies thus far, but he can’t keep falling back onto them for much longer.

Juvia’s not an idiot—but he definitely is. It’s only a matter of time until she catches onto him and the things he’s been doing.

“I told you, it’s nothing, just…just a new technique I’ve been working on.” He takes a running start, then leaps over the backyard fence. “I’ll…I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Juvia lingers at the gate, her hand hovering over the latch. He’s surprised she didn’t reprimand him for jumping with such a large load on his back, like she always does.

“Gray, I…I hope you know that you can confide anything in me. Especially after last night—I’m here for you.”

The evening light casts her face with a beautiful amber glow, making even her concerned expression look heavenly. A breeze passes by, gently playing with her hair. She looks tired—but he knows she’ll stay up for however long he asks her to. She’ll listen to anything he has to say, forever, no matter how whiny or repetitive or self-destructive he gets. She’ll wait at his bedside when he’s sick, she’ll plan dates for when he’s free and willing, and she’ll go to the ends of the earth to find him if he ever gets lost.

Juvia would die for him—and if Gray makes one wrong move, she almost certainly will.

He pauses, then turns his back to her. “I know.”

The house radiates with warmth and the smell of Juvia’s soap when he returns for the night. It’s like he’s in a damn storybook, it’s so cozy.

His insides itch with unease. Nevertheless, he has to calm himself down soon. He’s got to report to Avatar early tomorrow.

“I forgot how early the sun’s setting now,” he calls out. “I got as much wood chopped as I could, though.”

“Thank you, my love!” Juvia’s muffled response echoes from down the hall, accompanied by the sound of splashing water. “I’ll be out in just a moment. Is it dark out?”

He fumbles around the counter. “Yeah, I even tripped over a stump on my way back in. Nicked my leg, too—do you know where the bandages are?”

“Ah, I have a first aid kit in my bag! It should still be on the table, check the front pocket.”

Gray rifles through her bag in the dim kitchen, his fingers finding a large rectangular object. Always so reliable—this thing’s huge.

The item he pulls out looks nothing like the standard-issue first aid kit he remembers her having. Instead of a nondescript, worn-out box with their guild insignia, this one is well-maintained and ornately decorated, not to mention pink.

He can’t help but have a private smile. She finally personalized it.

Undoing the dainty gold latches, he expects to see it burst open with an endless amount of heart-decorated bandages. However, the lid squeaks open to reveal…

A single hardcover book.

Maybe it’s his paranoia—after near-constant talk of the Books of Zeref at Avatar, he’s more than a little on-edge about literature these days. Maybe it was his natural inquisitiveness, being a Maker Magic wizard and all. More than likely, though, it was probably his own desire for self-destruction that made him flip open to that random middle page, and read the words penned in elegant and unhurried hand.

August 12th, 791

Diary,

The train back to Magnolia was quiet. Although it’s the middle of summer, it’s so snowy here in the north I half expected it to be delayed. Nevertheless, it arrived and left on time, leaving no extra time for Gray and I to spend together!

I’m surprised I’m still awake after I stayed up so late writing last night. My hand is still sore. However, I don’t ever want to forget a single detail about yesterday for as long as I live. I only hope my tears won’t damage the paper down the line.

Gray’s been thoughtful and apologetic all day, as if he doesn’t realize how special it was for me to see his hometown. He carried my bag, paid for lunch, and even held my hand as I boarded the train-car. I thought my heart was going to burst! As handsome and dashing as he was (always is!) today, I can still sense the profound sadness plaguing him, and it tears me apart to see.

The knot in his throat is making it hard to breathe.

At one point, I found myself waking with my head resting upon Gray’s shoulder, having only been stirred by him wiping his eyes. I pretended to be asleep for a while longer, though it nearly killed me.

No matter how much I profess my love for him, I fear he does not feel it. Perhaps he secretly despises me. Now that I’ve exhibited such brutality, even killed his father, could it be that he finally sees the sins that lurk within my heart? Even so, no matter how despicable I may be, I yearn for him to understand my feelings are true and pure.

He need not return my love. I only pray he will love himself, and know that the fact he’s alive is my

“Did you find it, darling?”

Gray stops trembling just enough to slam the diary box shut and shove it back into her bag. He gulps down an unsteady breath.

“Yeah, I-I’m all good now! You, uh, still in there?”

“I’m finishing up right now, so sorry for the wait!”

He finds his feet moving on their own. He clings to his surroundings for balance until his hands curve around the frame of the bathroom door, which promptly opens.

“Oh!” Juvia jumps slightly upon seeing him. “M-my apologies, I didn’t realize you needed the restroom so urgently—”

“Hey,” he breathes. His voice sounds foreign. “Um, hey.”

Juvia shifts awkwardly. She adjusts her towel, clearly not anticipating to be seen in such a state. “H-hey?”

Just out of her view, he grips the wall for dear life, his thoughts spiraling as his head spins. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. If only she were the type to slap him.

“You, uh,” he clears his throat. “You did really well yesterday. I feel bad I couldn’t have helped more.”

Juvia gives him a nervous smile. “It was nothing. You and everyone else did so well to make me feel appreciated, I should be thanking you.”

“You deserve a lot more,” he slowly licks his lower lip, then bites it. “I’d like to thank you more.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?” She emits a slight laugh.

His posture shifts until he’s leaning against the door frame. He runs a hand through his hair, cocking his head. Juvia’s brows shift across emotions—bashfulness, recognition, confusion.

“I want you to feel appreciated,” he rasps. “You know, as your friend and all.”

She tucks a lock of damp hair behind her ear. “You’re…going to make me blush.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Juvia stills, staring at him in shock. Her mouth falls open.

He continues. “You’ve been working so hard, it’s only right that I make up for all the stress I’ve caused you, especially after I failed at making our accommodations last night,” he slowly draws a shaky breath. “I’d like to do something for you, if you want. To help you relax.”

She keeps staring at him. If he didn’t know her so well, he wouldn’t have noticed her chest rising and falling, nor her lips puckering ever-so-slightly.

“What exactly are you saying?” she finally asks, almost in a whisper.

“I’m saying,” he swallows, finally breaking eye contact, “I’m...well, what I’m trying to say is—”

He fights a gut urge to cover his mouth, his body physically trying to stop the words from leaving him. It’s like he’s waded too far into the ocean and there’s a rip current pulling him in, threatening to sweep him away forever. His heart races in terror. Waves crash in his ears, his lungs barely able to hold air. Now’s his only chance to turn back to shore.

The urge to return his gaze to Juvia finally prevails. Her pupils are darker than black, two swirling vortexes ready to drag him to the depths. She raises her brows, beckoning, and Gray decides it’s a good day for drowning.

And so, he steps through the threshold and guides her lips onto his.

JANUARY