The afternoon sun, with its golden, sleepy laziness, filtered softly through the single window of our small room, painting flickering stripes of light on the wooden floor and warming the air with a promise of tranquillity. As we gathered the empty plates and milk mugs onto the tray Hilda had left for us, the comforting aroma of the home-cooked meal still lingered in the air like a happy ghost, mingling with the soft, cool breeze drifting in through the ajar window, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth from the forest outside. It was a scene of domesticity so normal, so peaceful, it almost made me forget, for a brief, dangerous moment, who I truly was and the sort of chaotic life I usually led.
"Well, my little, now suitably fed scarlet warrior," I commented, with a sigh of satisfaction and a slight twinge in my back from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position, getting up to examine with genuine interest the small pile of clean, colourful clothes that good Hilda had left on the bed. After days of wearing the same filthy, stinking rags, the prospect of putting on something clean was almost ecstatic. "I reckon, after a bath to get rid of this crust of dirt, blood, and despair that's accompanying us, it's high time we got rid of these current… shipwrecked fugitive outfits of ours. What would you prefer to wear first, Erza? Any preference for blue or green?"
"Hmm, I think a shirt and skirt would be lovely, Azra'il," she replied with a small, shy smile, approaching to look at the clothes as well, her brown eye, now free from the weight of fear and exhaustion, scanning the garments with genuine interest and childlike curiosity. She touched the fabrics with an almost reverent delicacy, appreciating the different shades, the soft textures, and the simple, wonderful normality of those clothes. "And you, Azra'il? Have you chosen what you'll wear? Or are you going to stick with that 'mysterious child who just survived the apocalypse' look of yours?" There was a mischievous glint in her one good eye that made me smile.
"I'll see what decent bits are left after you've finished your queenly bath and picked out the best pieces," I replied with a shrug, as I rummaged through the changes of clothes until I found an ensemble I thought would suit her particularly well – a short-sleeved shirt in a soft shade of sky blue that would enhance the colour of her hair, and a pleated skirt of a light, comfortable fabric that, I imagined, would fall just below her knees, allowing for freedom of movement. Practical and pretty. "After all, the priority here is to ensure our future, fearsome, greatest mage of Fairy Tail is at least minimally presentable for her debut in the world."
"Here," I handed her the chosen clothes, along with a fluffy, surprisingly soft towel that was set aside and smelled of lavender and sunshine. "You can go first, little redhead. Enjoy the hot water while it lasts."
"I can't wait to see you in normal, clean clothes too, Azra'il," Erza commented with an amused smile and almost palpable anticipation, taking the clothes with a glint of eagerness in her eyes. "It was high time we swapped these old, smelly, hole-ridden rags of ours for something that doesn't scream 'please arrest me, I'm a desperate fugitive'." She had a point.
[Look at that, how adorable! Little Erza seems to have a genuine interest in fashion and her appearance, Azra'il! I wouldn't be surprised if, in a while, she'll be choosing your clothes, doing your hair, and dressing you up like a life-sized doll. It would be a hilarious spectacle to behold,] Eos's voice chimed in my mind, with her characteristic tone of affectionate mockery and inconveniently accurate predictions.
(Eos, you meddling tin can, if you don't shut that sarcastic AI gob of yours, I swear I'll switch you off and replace you with an abacus…) I threatened mentally, though I knew it was an empty threat.
"The lavatory is just there, on the left," I indicated the narrow, slightly warped door in the corner of the room, ignoring Eos's mental chuckle. "Take as long as you need. Relax. Then it's my turn to try and look minimally human."
Erza walked to the bathroom door with surprisingly decisive steps and a lightness I hadn't seen in her since we had escaped that damned tower. Before entering and closing the door, she turned with a mischievous smile and a wink that caught me by surprise. "Don't take too long when it's your turn, alright? I'm curious to see what you look like in new, clean clothes too! Who knows, maybe you'll even look like a normal child for a few minutes!" And with that jibe, she disappeared through the door.
[Ah, but she's simply adorable, Azra'il! And she's absolutely right, you really are in desperate need of a radical change to your wardrobe and your 'just wrestled a sewer monster' hairstyle. Perhaps something in pastel shades? Or with ruffles? It would be… interesting,] Eos continued with her entirely unsuitable fashion suggestions, clearly designed to irritate me.
(Don't you ever tire of tormenting me, you chattering contraption?)
[Never, my dear Azra'il! Never! Especially when it comes to teasing you and observing your hilariously embarrassed reactions. It's my primary source of entertainment. And you know I only do it because I care. About your mental well-being and your dreadful fashion sense.]
I shook my head with a resigned sigh, ignoring Eos's incessant provocations, who was clearly amusing herself at my expense. I began to examine more closely the other items of clothing Hilda had left us, thinking about what I myself would wear after my well-deserved bath. The soft, constant sound of water starting to run in the adjacent bathroom reached my ears, and I couldn't help but smile discreetly. It was good, surprisingly good, to see Erza so at ease, so relaxed, increasingly showing facets of her lively, curious, surprisingly stubborn personality. She was a box of surprises, that little redhead.
While the comforting sound of Erza's bath filled the small room, along with the fresh scent of soap and steam beginning to spread, I started to rummage more carefully through the remaining clothes the good Hilda had generously offered us. There were some simple dresses and a few light-fabric skirts that looked pretty and would certainly suit Erza, but for me, they were definitively, categorically out of the question. My… peculiar anatomy, let's say, this "little special condition" that fate or some cosmic joke had gifted me in this incarnation – possessing the full set of both female and male intimate parts – made wearing such garments not only completely unsuitable and uncomfortable but also potentially revealing of secrets I preferred to keep, well, secret. Frankly, it would be a recipe for embarrassment and unwanted questions, and I already had enough drama in my life without needing to add that. Not that I cared deeply about gender conventions or what others might think, but practicality and discretion were my allies.
I had always, in all my many and varied incarnations, and regardless of my physical configuration at the time, preferred more practical, comfortable clothes that allowed for total freedom of movement for kicking arses, climbing walls, and making a swift getaway from problematic situations, and that, above all, didn't draw unnecessary attention to certain… anatomical details. Style with functionality and a touch of discretion, that was my motto. And frilly dresses and flowing skirts simply didn't fit that philosophy.
With a critical, eminently practical eye, I selected an outfit that pleased me immediately and seemed to meet all my requirements: a pair of sturdy, dark, neutral-toned trousers that looked comfortable, durable, and, most importantly, capable of withstanding a bit of abuse. A soft white cotton shirt, buttoned and with long sleeves I could roll up if necessary, which would lend a slightly neater, less "feral child living in the forest" air. And, to complete the look and add a touch of discreet elegance and an air of mystery, a dark, simple, but well-cut waistcoat that, I imagined, would provide an interesting contrast with the white shirt. Practical, comfortable, functional, and, who knows, with a certain rustic, adventurous charm. Perfect.
[Hmm, what an interesting and unexpectedly… sophisticated choice, Azra'il. Trying to impress someone in particular with this new, more elegant, less 'apocalypse survivor' look of yours? Perhaps a certain little redhead with a taste for fashion?] Eos's voice in my mind was pure, crystalline teasing.
(I just want to look minimally presentable and not frighten the villagers with my juvenile delinquent appearance, Eos. And you know full well I need to dress this way for purely practical reasons and to avoid awkward questions about certain… unexpected appendages,) I replied mentally, with an irritation I barely tried to conceal.
[I know, I know… purely practical reasons, of course. But admit it, Azra'il, go on. That waistcoat is pure, simple vanity. You're already imagining little Erza's admiring comment about how elegant and mysterious you'll look in your new attire. Admit it, you vain ancient being!] She was having far too much fun with this.
(Haven't you got anything more productive to do, Eos? Like, I don't know, calculate the trajectory of an asteroid or translate some dead language? Or perhaps just stay silent for about five minutes?)
[Absolutely nothing, my dear Azra'il, is more fun, stimulating, and rewarding than teasing you and observing your adorably irritated reactions. You know it's true! And, honestly, I've already translated all known dead languages. Twice.]
With a resigned sigh that was more for Eos than out of real tiredness, I carefully folded the chosen clothes on the bed, ignoring my AI's incessant provocations and unnecessary comments about my supposed, entirely unfounded hidden intentions to impress a certain redhead. I also set aside a clean, fluffy towel smelling comfortingly of lavender for myself. The sound of water in the bathroom continued, a rhythmic, constant murmur that brought a sense of almost surreal normality. And then, through the soft noise of the shower, another sound stood out, making my ancient heart give a small, unexpected lurch. It was Erza's surprisingly pleasant voice, humming softly.
The melody was hesitant, a little off-key in places, but unmistakable. It was the song I had sung to her in the cave, that ancient melody from a forgotten life. A small, genuine, perhaps even a little… soppy and sentimental smile formed on my lips without me noticing. That stubborn girl and her irritating ability to disarm me and surprise me with the simplest, most unexpected things. And, apparently, she had liked my singing. Who'd have thought.
The bathroom door finally creaked open, and Erza emerged amidst a soft cloud of fragrant steam, with an air of renewal that was almost palpable. And I, who have seen the rise and fall of empires, the death of stars, and the birth of universes, confess that my eyes widened slightly in genuine surprise – the transformation was, to say the least, impressive. Without all that dirt, soot, dried blood, and the constant expression of fear and exhaustion, she looked like a completely, utterly different person. Her vibrant crimson hair, now clean, untangled, and shining with fiery reflections under the room's light, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, perfectly framing her delicate face, which now had a healthy colour and a natural glow. The new clothes, simple but well-fitting, complemented her appearance in a surprising way, further highlighting her natural beauty, her proud posture, and the strength that emanated from her, even at her tender age. She was… beautiful. In a raw, wild, totally unexpected way.
"You look… you look lovely, Erza," I praised with a sincerity that surprised me, the words slipping out before I could stop them or temper them with my usual sarcasm.
A radiant smile, of pure, crystalline happiness, lit up her face like the sunrise, making her one good eye shine with a contagious intensity. "Thank you, Azra'il! And that bath was wonderful! The water was so warm! Now it's your turn! Go on, go and have a bath! I'm curious to see you clean too!" Her animation was almost childlike, and utterly adorable.
"Alright, alright, I'm going, you little personal hygiene tyrant," I replied with an amused sigh, grabbing my set-aside clothes and towel. The prospect of a hot bath after so long was, indeed, very tempting.
The lavatory was simple, rustic, but surprisingly well-equipped for such a small place. And the magic shower, ah, the magic shower was a true, glorious convenience, a gift from the gods for tired, dirty travellers like us – one merely had to turn a small enchanted crystal to adjust the energy flow and control the water temperature, from cool and refreshing to hot and relaxing. As soon as I stepped under the hot, plentiful jet of water, I felt my tired, aching muscles begin to relax instantly, the accumulated tension of the last few days dissipating like smoke.
Whilst washing my long white hair, untangling the stubborn knots with my fingers, and then dedicating special, careful attention to my long, furry lupine tail, which was particularly tangled and dirty, I mentally called out to my faithful, omnipresent companion: (Oi, Eos, since we're in a moment of relative calm and cleanliness, could you please show me the updated status screen? I want to see if all that mess, carnage, and near-death experience in the Tower of Heaven at least served some purpose in terms of power increase.)
[Of course, of course, Azra'il. Always thinking of your personal development, even during a bath. Let me just check my records here… Well, look at that, interesting! It seems you, miraculously and against all odds, went up an impressive 4 levels after that little, discreet 'kerfuffle' of yours in the Tower of Heaven! Congratulations! Fancy seeing the gory details and updated statistics?] There was a mocking tone in her voice that I decided to ignore. For now.
(Yes, please. Show me the numbers. And try not to be so dramatic.)
STATUS SHEET
Name: Azra'il Weiss (still sounds odd, but Erza liked it)
Race: Lupine Beastman Half-breed (an… interesting genetic combination, to say the least, and which explains the cute tail and ears)
Gender: Female Intersex (which, in this world, likely just adds another item to the 'odd things about Azra'il' list for others to whisper about)
Current Level: 17 (still, for all practical, cosmic purposes, basically a super-powered infant with anger management issues in terms of real power)
Real Level: 1279 🔒 (ah, there's the good old, terribly powerful Azra'il, just patiently waiting to get out and cause a bit of mass destruction… or perhaps just an afternoon tea with biscuits.)
CURRENT STATS | REAL STATS
Strength: 38 | 26,467 🔒 (can carry Erza with one arm vs. can hurl small moons about like marbles)
Endurance: 42 | 27,891 🔒 (can withstand a punch from a grumpy ogre vs. can take a casual stroll through the core of an exploding star)
Magic: 61 | 39,234 🔒 (can make a fire without matches vs. can rewrite the fundamental laws of universal magic with a yawn)
Speed: 45 | 26,987 🔒 (run faster than a startled horse vs. lap the entire planet before you can finish saying 'breakfast')
Luck: 11 | 1,756 🔒 (frequently find lost coins in the street vs. win the universal lottery without even buying a ticket, and probably win the prize twice)
Charisma: 42 | 25,345 🔒 (can convince publicans to give me free rooms vs. can start and end intergalactic wars with a single, fiery speech and a charming smile)
Vitality: 53 | 27,678 🔒 (rarely get ill or need plasters vs. am basically immune to most known forms of death, disease, and boredom)
Regeneration: 51 | 26,987 🔒 (minor cuts and scrapes heal in minutes vs. regenerate lost limbs in seconds, usually with a sarcastic comment about the inconvenience)
(Hmm, a considerable increase in all attributes, especially the more… active ones,) I commented mentally, whilst vigorously massaging shampoo into my long, now surprisingly soft furry tail. I'd need to find a decent comb soon.
[Principally a notable increase in your Speed and Vitality, Azra'il. That little, discreet 'scuffle' of yours against those innumerable necromantic beasts, incompetent guards, and a few third-rate mages really did demand quite a bit from your modest current body. Though, I must admit, I strongly suspect part of your sudden, unexpected increase in the Charisma attribute has something to do with a certain, stubborn little red-haired girl with one eye who seems to have taken a shine to you in an almost… canine fashion…] Her teasing was relentless.
(Eos, you bloody, meddling artificial intelligence with a special talent for irritating me, can't you, by any chance, go for at least five precious minutes without making some cheap jibe or unnecessary comment about my non-existent personal life, no?)
[Impossible, my dear, grumpy Azra'il! It is my primary function and my greatest pleasure as your intelligent support system to annoy you, tease you, and, occasionally, prevent you from causing the complete and total destruction of the universe. Besides, admit it, you've got a small, almost imperceptible smile on your face right now, haven't you? Even under all that water and soap.] Damn AI. She knew me too well.
I continued my refreshing bath, letting the hot water and steam relax my tense, aching muscles, whilst reflecting on the new, promising numbers on my status sheet. Even with the irritating seal still severely limiting my true, glorious real powers, this small but significant increase in my current level would be extremely useful for protecting little, stubborn Erza on our long, uncertain journey to the city of Magnolia and the infamous Fairy Tail guild. And, who knows, perhaps it would even allow me to conjure a decent cup of tea. It would be a start.
-----------------(*)-----------------
Four days passed with surprising, almost suspicious tranquillity in Hilda's welcoming, noisy tavern, "The Drunken Squid". Between serving foaming tankards of ale to thirsty customers, stacking clean plates with newfound efficiency, and sweeping the worn wooden floor with questionable enthusiasm, Erza and I found an unexpectedly comfortable, almost… normal routine. Despite Hilda's initial, vehement protests, insisting we were her guests and not her employees, we both made an absolute point of helping with the tavern chores – it was the least, the absolute least, we could do to repay her almost unbelievable generosity and her heart of gold. Besides, keeping busy stopped me from thinking too much about Jellal, about the Tower, or about the fact I was starting to develop dangerously maternal protective feelings for a certain stubborn redhead.
During one of the rare lunch breaks, at a table in the back of the hot, steam-filled kitchen, I took a moment when Erza was completely distracted and happy, chatting animatedly with Hilda about some apple pie recipe, to discreetly add a few precious drops of a minor healing potion from my vast, well-stocked inventory into her fruit juice. The crystal-clear, odourless, tasteless liquid dissolved instantly into the thick red juice, leaving not the slightest trace of its magical presence.
[Minor Healing Potion, Azra'il? Really? With all due respect, that's almost an insult to your vast alchemical knowledge and your absurdly well-stocked inventory. You have infinitely better, more potent things stored away, you know? Potions that could heal a dying dragon with a single gulp.] Eos's disapproval was almost palpable.
(I know, I know, you critical AI with overly high standards,) I replied mentally, rolling my eyes. (But how on earth would I explain to her, or to good Hilda, if her missing eye suddenly, magically regenerated in seconds, or if all her injuries vanished as if by magic? That would raise many, many inconvenient, dangerous questions I'm honestly in no mood to answer right now. This minor potion will gradually heal her other injuries and bruises, discreetly and naturally, without drawing any unwanted attention. It's the best I can do for now, without revealing my more… interesting secrets.)
[Always thinking of everything, aren't you, you strategist disguised as a grumpy child? But I know, Azra'il, I know it's deeply bothering you that you can't do more for her, can't heal her completely with a snap of your fingers. Your concern is… almost touching.] Damn AI and her ability to read my subconscious emotions.
(It's… it's frustrating, I admit,) I confessed mentally, with a sigh. (I have potions in my inventory that could not only completely restore her eye but also give it eagle vision and the ability to shoot laser beams. But…)
[But explaining the sudden, miraculous existence of these divine, dubiously sourced potions would be, at the very least, overly complicated and would raise unnecessary suspicions. I understand perfectly. Sometimes, even omnipotent power needs to be wielded with discretion and a good public relations plan.]
I watched discreetly, over the rim of my own tankard of ale (non-alcoholic, of course, Hilda was strict about that), as Erza drank her juice with relish, completely oblivious to my little pharmaceutical intervention. I was pleased to see she noticed absolutely nothing different in the taste or appearance of the drink. Gradually, with the subtle effect of the potion, her purple bruises and minor, superficial cuts would fade, appearing merely as a natural, surprisingly quick recovery for a child her age. The deeper injuries, and especially that of her eye, would be another story. But, for now, this was the most I could do without compromising our cover.
"You two, my dears, remind me so much of my Lena," Hilda commented one afternoon, with a nostalgic smile and a moist glint in her eyes, as she watched Erza and me arranging the tavern tables with surprising efficiency for two children. "She also had that same determined sparkle in her eyes, that same adorable stubbornness, and that same inner strength you both display. It's been some years since she left here, my little adventurer, to join a mages' guild in a distant city. Sometimes, very rarely, I still get letters from her, full of incredible stories about her adventures, the friends she's made, and the monsters she's faced." There was a palpable longing in her voice.
During our daily chores in the tavern, which were surprisingly therapeutic and a good distraction from my dark thoughts, I took the opportunity to listen intently, with my sharpened senses, to the numerous conversations of the travellers, merchants, and local peasants who frequented the establishment. And the city of Magnolia, and its infamous mages' guild, Fairy Tail, was a recurring, apparently inexhaustible topic.
"That guild, Fairy Tail, is a true blessing and a terrible curse at the same time!" commented a portly, red-faced merchant, with a beard that looked as if it housed small animals, as he noisily savoured his meat and potato stew. "They are, without a doubt, the strongest, bravest, most insane mages I've ever had the displeasure of encountering in all my travels. But they are also, by far, the most destructive, noisy, and with a worrying tendency to cause large-scale collateral damage! Just last week, a powerful mage from that guild, a certain Gildarts, if I'm not mistaken, passed through my humble town – a single, innocent sneeze from that man and half the high street simply cracked in two as if it were made of cardboard!" He shook his head, a mixture of admiration and dread in his eyes.
"But did you see, my dear fellow, how they dealt with that terrible demonic threat in Hargeon a few months ago?" another customer, an old fisherman with calloused hands and a wise gaze, replied with conviction. "No one else on this continent would have the courage, the strength, or the sheer, simple stubbornness to face something of that level of power and evil. Fairy Tail may be noisy and destructive, but they protect the innocent like no one else."
[It seems we've really found the perfect place for our furious little redhead to fit in, haven't we, Azra'il? A guild full of chaos, destruction, overly powerful mages with control issues, and a strong sense of family. She'll feel right at home in minutes!] The amusement in Eos's voice was almost palpable.
(Considering her raw, still uncontrolled magical power, and her tendency to solve problems with an improvised sword, it really does seem a surprisingly suitable, stimulating environment for her development,) I replied mentally, with a small smile.
The reports about Fairy Tail varied drastically between almost reverent admiration and utter, absolute exasperation. The guild had the infamous reputation of accepting practically anyone who wanted to join their dysfunctional, noisy family, no matter their dark past, humble origins, or questionable habits. They were known as much for their overwhelming strength in battle as for their fierce, almost suicidal loyalty to one another. And, of course, for the astronomical amount of material damage they caused on every mission.
"They say the guild master, a short little old chap called Makarov, treats all the members as if they were his own children and grandchildren," a kindly old lady, with a flowery hat and a benevolent gaze, commented during breakfast, whilst sipping her herbal tea. "That guild, from what I've heard, is more a noisy, love-filled home than anything else for those lost young mages."
[A home… a family… That's exactly what our strong little scarlet warrior desperately needs right now, don't you think, Azra'il? A place to belong, to be accepted, to heal her wounds… and perhaps to learn to control that rather… over-the-top requip sword magic of hers.] There was a rare, almost touching sincerity in Eos's voice.
(Yes, Eos. I think so,) I replied mentally, my eyes drifting to Erza, who, at that very moment, was smiling with genuine, contagious joy as she served a table full of hungry peasants, her laughter mingling with the hubbub of the tavern. (And from what we're hearing from all these contradictory stories, it seems we, or rather, she, made the right choice. Fairy Tail seems the perfect place for her to flourish.)
With every new story I heard about the infamous, legendary Fairy Tail guild, I became more certain that this was, indeed, the perfect place for Erza to restart her life, to find the strength and support she so desperately needed. A guild that didn't judge its members' pasts, that didn't care about their origins or their mistakes. That prized friendship and family above all else, even if that family was a bunch of noisy misfits with a worrying tendency for destruction. And, most importantly, a guild that, it seemed, had enough power and influence to protect her and the others from any future threat from that damned Tower of Heaven, should it become necessary.
"Azra'il! Table five needs more ale! And the kitchen's running out of spuds!" Erza called to me from the other side of the tavern, her voice clear and surprisingly authoritative, interrupting my deep thoughts and sociological analyses of mages' guilds.
"Coming, you bossy little head waitress!" I replied with an amused smile, quickly returning to our temporary routine of work and normality, as the days passed tranquilly, surprisingly quickly in that small, welcoming, unexpected refuge good, generous Hilda had provided us. For the first time in a long while, I almost felt… at peace. Which was, in itself, a profoundly unsettling thought.