Time, that cosmic joke with a terrible sense of timing, had once again slipped through my fingers. Several months, which for me were a bored blink of an eye and for mortals an eternity of dramas, almost a year to be precise (thank you, Eos, you gossiping timekeeper, for constantly reminding me of others' ephemerality).
Since my 'intensive cultivation retreat' with the She-Devil Strauss – also known as 'Operation: Don't Accidentally Explode Mirajane' – much, as always, had changed. My control over Ethernano and, more importantly, over my own ancestral power, had taken a considerable leap. Modesty aside, I attribute this to my natural brilliance and Mira's irritating insistence on making me… try.
And it wasn't just with the queen of demons and fake smiles. A large part of my precious 'free time' – read: the time I should have been using for nobler activities like epic naps or contemplating the futility of existence – was also invested in training the small, stubborn Erza Scarlet.
If Mira needed a push to embrace her inner darkness, Erza needed refinement. While the world saw Titania flourish with her swords and armours, I, behind the scenes and with a patience that defied my very nature, made sure she didn't become a one-trick pony. Spears, axes, bows… she absorbed it all like a talented, slightly frightening sponge.
Mirajane also evolved, her gothic facade giving way to a more contained, and, I dare say, even more dangerous strength. Their rivalry? Let's just say it went from childish to something more… complex. Or perhaps just a truce before the next explosion of egos. In any case, Fairy Tail continued its gloriously chaotic course of 'heroic missions' and teenage dramas that would make a demon lord yawn.
Now, with autumn giving way to a lazy winter full of gaudy Christmas decorations far too flashy for my taste, Erza and Mira sported their newly turned fifteen years with the typical arrogance of those who think the universe revolves around them.
I, with my ancient wisdom and a total lack of patience for juvenile dramas, had reached the glorious, hormonally confusing fourteen. An elder, if compared to those two walking fonts of magical 'testosterone'. At least that's what I told myself to maintain superiority.
[Ah, the irony of youth… even for one who has catalogued the puberty of countless species. You strive to appear indifferent, Azra'il, but your 'concern for Erza' algorithms are on high alert,] Eos commented, ever so subtle.
Today, the guild was… different. Electric. Like the air before a storm or the awkward silence after a bad joke from Master Makarov. Everyone, except for this humble, hungry 'daughter' of yours, was restless, as anxious as if they were awaiting the results of a particularly worrying blood test. It seemed all of Magnolia had had their coffee with a triple shot of caffeine and paranoia. The tension was almost palpable. And utterly irritating for someone who just wanted a quiet coffee.
Natsu and Gray, to absolutely no one's surprise, were expressing their anxiety in the most constructive way they knew: by trying to tear each other's limbs off in the middle of the hall, with the usual soundtrack of creative insults and misdirected elemental magic. It was just another normal Tuesday at Fairy Tail. Or perhaps Wednesday. I lose track of time easily in this madhouse.
The reason for all this commotion? Today was the announcement of the names for the S-Class Mage Promotion Trial. That annual circus where overestimated mages risked their lives for a shiny badge and bragging rights. Many were biting their nails – or, in Natsu's case, trying to eat his own fire, as if that would magically increase his chances. Youthful ambition. So… quaint. And Eos, that sadistic AI, was certainly recording every moment for future jokes.
Then, Makarov, from his perch on the second floor, cleared his throat into his magic megaphone, silencing even Natsu's stomach – an impressive feat. The tension mounted.
"Attention, you noisy brats!" he began, with that voice of his that managed to be both paternal and threatening at the same time. "The time has come! This year, due to unexpected circumstances and an excess of promising talent (and a few cases of sheer luck, let's be honest), we will have THREE candidates! And the names of the chosen, those who will have the dubious honour of nearly dying in the attempt, are…"
A dramatic pause. The sadistic old man.
[Oh, the excitement! The anticipation! Will Happy finally achieve his dream of becoming an S-Class Mage and prove that flying cats can, in fact, rule the world?] Eos's voice in my mind was pure sarcasm and amusement.
"The first, to the surprise of zero people, Erza Scarlet!" A cry of joy and a "YES!" from Erza echoed. Predictable. And deserved, I admit.
"The second, also without any major shocks, Mirajane Strauss!" The albino gave a smug smile. Equally predictable.
[Well, so far, the surprise statistics are at a solid, disappointing 0%. Next, Master. Continue, please. Unless he names Happy as the third candidate, then, and only then, would I consider this a truly shocking, noteworthy plot twist for my files,] Eos commented in my mind, with an almost palpable boredom.
"And, to the confusion of many," Makarov continued, with an enigmatic smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes that I knew all too well and which usually preceded some form of disaster or embarrassment for someone (usually me), "our third and perhaps most… shall we say, unexpected, surprising, and potentially chaotic candidate this year is… our very own enigmatic telepathic child, the master of napping while standing, and the connoisseur of others' sweets… Azra'il Weiss!"
What. No. No, no, no. He couldn't be serious. Me? Azra'il Weiss? S-Class Trial? That annual slaughterhouse for egos and, occasionally, mages? A mistake. A terrible, catastrophic mistake. My quiet life, my naps, my 'strange and harmless child' facade… all down the drain. May the gods have me in their holy (or unholy, whatever) keeping.
While I was still trying to process the magnitude of the impending catastrophe that had befallen my peaceful existence, and seriously considering the possibility of feigning a sudden, prolonged faint, Natsu and Gray, as was to be expected from two beings with the intellectual capacity of an amoeba with a headache, spontaneously combusted with pure, crystalline indignation and envy.
"WHAAAT?! AZRA'IL?! THAT WEIRDO WHO SLEEPS ON HER FEET IN THE MIDDLE OF MEETINGS AND WHO I'M SURE NICKS SWEETS FROM THE LARDER WHEN NO ONE'S LOOKING?!" Natsu bellowed, with a fury that made flames shoot from his nostrils, probably singeing his eyebrows.
"I'M INFINITELY STRONGER, COOLER, AND MORE QUALIFIED! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME! THIS IS AN INJUSTICE!" Poor thing. Deluded. Someone urgently needed to give him a dictionary, a mirror, and a map of reality. And perhaps a sedative.
"SHUT YOUR GOB, YOU WALKING MATCHSTICK WITH CINDER-BREATH!" Gray retorted, with his usual, elegant way of resolving conflicts, already starting to take off his shirt in a completely unnecessary gesture that probably only served to show off his muscles.
"IF ANYONE HERE DESERVES to be S-CLASS, IT'S ME, AND NOT THAT LAYABOUT WITH DOG EARS AND A TAIL WHO WAS PROBABLY ONLY CHOSEN OUT OF PITY!" The irony of him, of all the layabouts in the guild, calling me lazy was so thick, so delicious, it was almost a form of abstract art.
[Ah, the sweet, sweet, shrill melody of youthful stupidity, pure envy, and a total lack of self-awareness. My entertainment algorithms are, at this very moment, reaching levels of ecstasy I didn't know were possible for an AI. This is pure gold, Azra'il! Pure gold!] Eos vibrated in my mind, with a sadistic pleasure that was almost palpable.
"YOU TWO, YOU INSOLENT, NOISY BRATS WITH AN INCREDIBLE ABILITY TO GET ON MY NERVES BEFORE MY SECOND BREAKFAST!" Makarov's voice was no longer paternal. It was thunder. Very irritated thunder. Natsu and Gray instantly shrank like two withered flowers under a merciless frost, their faces turning from indignant fury to abject dread in a matter of nanoseconds. It was always amusing to see the old man's power.
"IF I HEAR ONE MORE MEASLY PEEP OF COMPLAINT ABOUT MY WISE AND ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED DECISIONS, I SWEAR ON THIS WHITE MOUSTACHE I WILL MAKE YOU TWO CLEAN ALL THE GUILD'S LATRINES WITH YOUR OWN, PRECIOUS TOOTHBRUSHES! FOR THE REST OF THIS YEAR! AND MAYBE THE NEXT AS WELL, IF I'M IN A FOUL MOOD! AM I CLEAR?!"
Silence. A silence so thick, so heavy, you could hear my jaw metaphorically hit the floor at the horrific mental image of the latrines and, more importantly, at the entirely unwanted prospect of actually having to participate in that suicidal exam. The universe, definitively, had a sick, sadistic sense of humour, with a clear predilection for tormenting me.
While the two remaining idiots, Natsu and Gray, now pale as ghosts and trembling like leaves, desperately tried to look innocent, repentant, utterly dedicated to the noble art of latrine cleaning, and with a profound respect for the Master's decisions, the rest of the guild, recovering quickly from the initial shock (and the palpable fear of the Master in 'divine fury' mode), exploded into a deafening cacophony of approving shouts, lively whistles, enthusiastic cheers, and, of course, as was to be expected from a bunch of addicts to betting and others' misfortune, the immediate start of a lively, noisy, probably illegal betting pool on which of us three would survive the exam, who would give up first in a fit of tears, and who would cause the greatest amount of material and emotional damage in the process.
The three 'strongest and most promising girls of Fairy Tail's new generation', as some of the older members with a fondness for clichés were already beginning to whisper excitedly, had been officially, irrevocably selected for the slaughterhouse… I mean, for the prestigious, highly competitive exam.
Erza, beside me, looked as if she were about to explode with so much pride, happiness, an almost palpable determination. Her eye shone with an intensity that could rival the sun itself, and she could barely contain her little jumps of excitement. Mira, with her usual elegance, sported a smile that was a dangerous, intriguing mixture of unshakeable confidence, predatory anticipation, a subtle touch of calculated sadism. And me? I, Azra'il Weiss, ancient entity, master of indifference, queen of sarcasm?
I just desperately wanted, with all the strength of my ancient, weary being, to crawl back to my soft, warm, comfortable bed, stick my head under the thickest pillow I could find, and pretend, with all the conviction I had left, that none of it, absolutely none of it, had actually happened. That it was all, solely, just a very, very bad nightmare, a hallucination caused by some sort of spoiled food, or, who knows, the side effect of some experimental spell gone terribly wrong.
My quiet, relatively discreet, surprisingly pleasant life, and most importantly, one with a tolerable, manageable amount of physical effort and social interaction, in the Fairy Tail Guild was, officially, irrevocably, unceremoniously, about to get much, much more complicated. And considerably, dreadfully, insufferably noisier.
Makarov, pleased with the fearful silence his threat had imposed, cleared his throat again, this time in a slightly calmer, yet still firm tone. "Now, as for the details of this S-Class Trial, they are a little different this year. Besides testing your individual strength and your ability to overcome extreme challenges on Tenrou Island, I also want to see how you work with others. After all, being an S-Class Mage isn't just about raw power, but also about inspiring and protecting your comrades!"
A shiver ran down my spine. "Comrades"? That sounded suspiciously like… teamwork. The horror.
"Therefore," he continued, with a glint in his eyes I didn't like one bit, "each of you, my brave candidates, shall choose ONE partner, a member of this guild, to accompany and assist you during the week of intensive training leading up to the exam and, of course, during the trials on Tenrou Island itself! Choose wisely, for your partner could be the difference between glory and… well, let's just say a prolonged visit to the infirmary."
Ah, no. Definitely not. Me and a partner? The idea was as appealing as being eaten alive by a giant sand worm.
"Master, with all due respect for your vast wisdom and your peculiar taste in hats," I began, in my sweetest, most innocent voice, the one I used to convince demon lords to give me their most powerful artefacts, "I truly believe I am perfectly self-sufficient. Partners, in my humble and vast experience, usually only get in the way of my strategic naps, my philosophical reflections on the futility of existence, and, most importantly, my ability to solve problems quickly, efficiently, and with a minimum of unnecessary noise. Besides, teamwork is so… overrated."
The vein on Makarov's forehead, which had receded a little, began to throb again with alarming intensity. "Azra'il Weiss! This is not a suggestion, it is an ORDER! The S-Class Trial also serves to strengthen the bonds between our members! To teach about mutual trust, camaraderie, and the power of friendship! Things that, apparently, you urgently need to learn!" His speech about 'bonds' and 'friendship' almost made me feel sick inside and gave me a sudden urge to vomit rainbows. Such cheap, entirely unnecessary sentimentality.
[Here we go again with the 'power of friendship' speech. It seems this guild has a fetish for shonen anime clichés. And you, Azra'il, clearly do not fit that mould of a weepy protagonist with a speech about protecting her friends every five minutes,] Eos commented, with an almost palpable boredom. [But, look on the bright side, perhaps you'll get a partner who's good at foot rubs. Or who knows where to find the best sweets in town.]
While I pondered the terrible, inevitable prospect of having to put up with a noisy, likely incompetent partner, Mirajane, with a confident smile and a protective gaze, announced her choice. "I choose my dear little brother, Elfman! Together, we shall show the true strength of the Strauss family!" Elfman, the big lad with a soft heart and a tendency to turn into giant beasts, looked as if he were about to cry with emotion and pride. How touching. And a bit sickening.
Erza, on the other hand, seemed a little more hesitant. If I hadn't been one of the candidates, I'm almost certain that she, with her blind loyalty and ill-disguised affection, would have chosen me instantly. Which would have been a disaster of epic proportions for my sanity.
Now, with that option discarded, her choice seemed to boil down to one of the two noisy clowns still trying to recover from the Master's sermon: the walking matchstick head or the boxer-short exhibitionist. What a dilemma. She looked from one to the other, with an expression of one trying to choose between two equally unpleasant forms of torture. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she pointed at Natsu. "I… I choose Natsu."
Natsu, who had been busy discreetly trying to lick a small flame on his finger, looked surprised and then exultant, as if he had won the lottery. Gray, on the other hand, looked deeply offended and betrayed. I foresee many fights and much destruction in that duo's future.
And then, all eyes turned to me. The pressure was almost palpable. I needed someone who would be minimally useful, who wouldn't annoy me too much, and, most importantly, who wouldn't get in the way of my naps. The options were… limited.
[So, Azra'il? It's your turn to shine and choose your companion for this epic journey of self-discovery and near-death. Who will be the lucky, or unlucky, individual to have the honour of witnessing your magnificence… and your morning grumbles? The stakes are high. I personally have my money on the little blue one…] Eos's voice in my mind was pure, crystalline mockery.
With a sigh that carried the weight of millennia of boredom and the prospect of having to interact socially more than necessary, I let Eos's 'subtle' suggestion guide my decision. After all, if I had to put up with a partner, it might as well be one who wouldn't give me much of a headache and could be easily… manipulated. Or used as a pillow.
"Very well, Master," I announced, in a tone of voice that was a mixture of resignation and a glint of mischief in my eyes that only Eos and, perhaps, Makarov himself noticed. "If a partner is absolutely necessary for this little, sadistic pastime of yours, then I have already made my choice. And I assure you, it is the best, most loyal, and most… multifunctional partner in the entire guild."
All eyes were fixed on me, curiosity and speculation stamped on their faces. Gray looked particularly eager, probably hoping that I, in an act of sheer madness, would choose him to prove some ridiculous point. Idiot.
With a small, enigmatic smile, I pointed to a small, furry blue figure conveniently hovering near Natsu, trying to steal a piece of fish from his plate.
"I choose… Happy!"
What. Silence. A silence so deep, so absolute, you could hear a fly buzz from the other side of the hall, or perhaps just the sound of my own, growing internal amusement. And then, as was to be expected in this madhouse I called a guild, chaos.
"HAPPY?! YOU CHOSE MY BEST MATE, HAPPY?!" Natsu Dragneel's voice echoed through the hall, not with the fury of one who has been overlooked (after all, he was already committed to the equally frightening, but at least human, Erza), but with the perplexity, concern of an older brother whose younger, rather naive sibling has just been invited to a dodgy party by a notoriously strange, unpredictable figure.
Flames of pure, crystalline confusion, perhaps a little protective jealousy, danced in his nostrils. "But… but why Happy, Weirdo?! What do you want with him?! He's a cat! A very cool flying blue cat who loves fish, sure, but still! You're not going to try and eat him, are you?! Or use him in some bizarre magic experiment?!" He seemed genuinely concerned for his feline partner's safety, integrity. So cute. And so naive.
While Natsu was still trying to process the idea of his best mate becoming my 'exam partner', the one who really exploded in an icy, indignant fury was our dear, frequently semi-naked, Gray Fullbuster.
"WHAT IN THE DEVIL IS GOING ON HERE?! A CAT?! SHE CHOSE A BLOODY FLYING BLUE CAT AND NOT ME?!" Gray bellowed, his voice laden with the outrage of someone who has just been queue-jumped for bread by a particularly cunning rodent. He was, for a change, shirtless, the aura of ice beginning to emanate from him was making the hall's temperature drop a few degrees.
"I WAS HERE! I AM A COMPETENT ICE MAGE! I TAKE MY SHIRT OFF WITH ENVIABLE EFFICIENCY! WHY ON EARTH WOULD A CAT BE A BETTER CHOICE THAN ME?!" He turned to Makarov, clearly taking this as a personal insult of epic proportions. The irony of Gray, the guild's impulsive nudist, questioning anyone's logic was, in itself, a ready-made joke.
Even Makarov, who had generally seen it all in this life, probably in a few others, seemed to have been caught completely off guard by my… eccentric, apparently highly controversial choice.
His eyes, normally so full of ancient wisdom, amused malice, were wide as an owl's who has just seen a ghost, his small mouth slightly agape in an expression of pure, absolute perplexity.
"H… Happy, Azra'il?" he asked, in a voice that was a comical mixture of disbelief, confusion, a desperate attempt to maintain his Guild Master composure. "Are you absolutely, unshakeably, utterly irrevocably sure about that, my child? He's… well, with all due respect to the lovely little kitty, he is, essentially, Happy."
Happy himself, who, amidst the commotion, had skilfully pilfered the juicy remainder of the fish from Natsu's plate, now devoured it with an air of feline triumph, stopped mid-air with a sharp movement, the fish still hanging halfway out of his small, pink mouth.
His large, round eyes, normally so full of contagious joy, harebrained schemes to get more fish, blinked in an adorable, entirely genuine, rather frightened confusion.
"Me? Myself? Partner to Azra'il-chan, the Scary Weirdo Who Sleeps Standing Up?" he looked from me to Natsu, then to Gray, with a canine, or rather, feline loyalty, clearly torn between the unexpected honour of the nomination, the monumental confusion as to why his human, much more… conventional friends had not been chosen. "Aye, sir! But… why me? Natsu, you're not cross, are you?" He seemed genuinely worried he had, somehow, betrayed his best friend.
"Of course, Master. I am absolutely, unshakeably sure," I replied, with the utmost naturalness, as if I had just announced the most logical, sensible, strategically brilliant choice of all time, solemnly ignoring Gray's indignant protests, Natsu's worried glances.
"Happy is, without the slightest shadow of a doubt or hesitation, the best, most qualified, most versatile, I dare say, most… multifunctional partner one could reasonably wish for in a trial so arduous, so challenging, let's be honest, potentially dreadfully boring as this exam. He can fly, which is an incredibly useful, coveted skill for avoiding long, tiring, entirely unnecessary walks over rough terrain, for reaching high, difficult-to-access places like, for example, shelves with hidden sweets, birds' nests with tasty eggs, of course, for swift, efficient getaways when things get… complicated. He is small, discreet, surprisingly agile, with a remarkable ability to go unnoticed, which makes him perfect for silent infiltration missions, for eavesdropping on others' conversations, or, who knows, for serving as a cute, adorable, entirely disposable bait to distract particularly stupid, large enemies with a weakness for small, furry things. And, most importantly, this is the crucial point of my brilliant strategy," I added, with a sweet, innocent, entirely calculated smile I was sure would fool absolutely no one who knew me in the slightest, not even for a second, "he is incredibly soft, exceptionally fluffy, possesses a pleasantly warm, constant body temperature, which makes him an excellent, portable, self-heating, very, very comfortable pillow when I, perchance, with considerable frequency, decide I need to take one of my strategic, refreshing, absolutely essential naps during the tedious, tiring, frequently poorly lit trials of the exam. Unquestionable functionality, supreme comfort, the invaluable ability to serve as a personal, portable heater. What more could one reasonably, logically ask for in an ideal, low-maintenance partner with an added bonus of undeniable cuteness?"
The entire guild, after a brief but intense moment of stunned silence while they processed the impeccable (utterly absurd, selfish) logic of my partner choice, exploded into a glorious, deafening mixture of incredulous laughter, shocked comments, a few timid claps from members who appreciated my practical reasoning, Natsu shouting even louder that this was an affront to his Dragon Slayer honour, Happy was not a pillow, Gray bellowing that this was the greatest humiliation of his life, he demanded an immediate duel with me to prove his superiority over a flying blue cat prone to naps (a duel I, of course, solemnly ignored with the superiority of one with far more important, interesting things to do, like, for example, planning my future, glorious naps with my new, multifunctional talking pillow who would, hopefully, bring me fish).
I just smiled, with that internal satisfaction almost palpable, immensely pleased with my genius choice, the delicious chaos it had instantly generated. Happy as a partner? At the very least, hilariously interesting. And, let's be honest, considerably less irritating, infinitely cuter than a certain freezing nudist, a noisy matchstick head.
Besides, the prospect of a self-heating pillow that might, just might, be bribed with fish to bring me more fish was too tempting to resist.
[Combat efficiency prediction with Happy as a partner: moderately low. Nap quality prediction: exponentially high. Entertainment prediction for this AI: infinite. Excellent choice, Azra'il. Pure strategy,] Eos commented in my mind, sarcasm dripping from every byte.
My life in Fairy Tail, already a glorious comedy of errors, was about to get even more… fluffy. Only time, perhaps a few formal complaints from Natsu about the improper use of his best mate as an item of furniture, would tell just how memorable (or disastrous) this exam would truly be. And me? I could hardly wait for my next nap.
[