Azra'il - POV
The train to Hosenka Village, a place that promised relaxing hot springs and a temporary escape from the usual insanity, departed exactly on time. The sharp whistle echoed through Magnolia station with an almost offensive punctuality, followed by a violent jolt that made the windows of our carriage tremble in their frames as if they were cold.
Which meant, of course, that the slow and dramatic death of Natsu Dragneel began exactly on time as well.
"Urgh..."
The sound that emanated from him, from the other side of the compartment, was a work of art of agony. Something between the pained groan of a mythological creature being flayed alive and the last, pathetic gasp of a very small and very unlucky animal. He was, literally, melting into the worn velvet seat, his body contorting in slow waves that followed every vibration of the train.
His fingers gripped the upholstery with enough force to leave permanent marks, as if he were trying to anchor himself to reality while his soul was being sucked into some dimension of pure motion sickness. His skin, normally a healthy rosy tone, had taken on a sickly greyish-green hue, a colour that, to me, unpleasantly recalled some sentient swamps I'd had the displeasure of visiting in past lives, swamps where dead things with many legs used to float and, occasionally, say good morning.
"I… hate… trains…" the words slurred from his pale lips, each syllable a Herculean effort. A single, solitary bead of sweat trickled down his temple, tracing a shiny path to his chin before dripping tragically onto the velvet seat. Such melodrama.
"You hate anything that moves and isn't you, flame-brain," Gray's voice sounded from the opposite seat, laden with a smug sarcasm. He had his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk of superiority playing at the corners of his mouth, revelling in the other's suffering. His blue shirt, miraculously, was still present, the buttons done up, the fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. "Carts, boats, carriages, even playground swings, if I remember that incident from our childhood correctly…"
"Shut… up… you… ice stripper…" Natsu managed to grunt, in a display of stubbornness that was almost admirable.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A STRIPPER, YOU FIFTH-RATE DRAGON WITH STOMACH PROBLEMS?!" Gray started to rise, his fists already clenching, the cold mist of his magic beginning to form. But then, he paused. Froze mid-movement. He looked down. To the sides. At the carriage floor. An expression of pure and absolute confusion took over his face. "Oi… hang on… where's my shirt?"
I blinked. Once. Twice.
His chest, which a second ago had been properly covered, was now completely bare. His abdominal muscles on display, his pale skin reflecting the sunlight streaming through the window. The shirt, that very same shirt he had been wearing five seconds ago, had simply… vanished. Like a textile phantom. As if it had never existed.
(It was there. Literally five seconds ago, Eos. I was LOOKING at him. How is that possible?)
[A new world record, Azra'il,] Eos's voice sounded in my mind, and I could have sworn there was a note of scientific admiration in her transmission. [He managed to lose his clothing in less time than it took for Natsu to start feeling sick. This not only defies the known laws of physics but also those of thermodynamics and, possibly, decency. It is a phenomenon that would merit an in-depth study.]
(It defies the laws of EVERYTHING.)
[Fascinating, isn't it? The spontaneity of nudity in certain species of mages.]
"Gray, for the love of all that is celestial, your shirt is on the floor," Lucy's voice sounded from the corner of the seat, laden with the exhausted patience of someone who had repeated that same sentence more times than she would care to admit. She pointed with an index finger, not even bothering to look, at the piece of blue fabric that lay abandoned under the opposite seat, as if it had freed itself of its own will and crawled there to take a nap.
"But… when did I take it off?!" Gray bent down to pick up the shirt, his face a mask of genuine and profound confusion. As if he really didn't understand. As if the act of involuntarily undressing was a cosmic mystery that afflicted him, an ancestral curse beyond human comprehension.
Perhaps it was. It would be as good an explanation as any.
"No one knows, Gray," Lucy sighed, turning her attention back to the window, where the urban landscape of Magnolia was beginning to give way to green fields and rolling hills. "No one, in the entire history of this guild, ever knows."
And Erza… ah, Erza was sitting beside me. Too close, as always. Occupying the space with that natural presence, that aura of authority and strength of someone who was used to commanding armies and making demons rethink their life choices. Her armour, thankfully, had been swapped for more… soft travel clothes. A white long-sleeved blouse, a simple navy-blue skirt that reached her knees, and sturdy leather boots that went up to mid-calf. Still, even in civilian clothes, she looked ready for battle at any moment. She always did. It was part of her, that readiness, that contained tension.
Her scarlet hair, a sight that could still distract me more than I would like, was loose today, falling in thick waves over her shoulders and back, occasionally swaying with the gentle motion of the train. A few stubborn strands kept falling over her face, and every few minutes, she would brush them away with an impatient flick of her fingers, as if brushing away an annoying enemy.
And she had brought, as always, an amount of luggage that would be considered absurd even for a royal family moving castles. Seven immense suitcases, stacked precariously in the luggage rack above our heads. Three metal trunks, strapped with thick leather belts, obstructing part of the aisle. And something large, long, and cylindrical, wrapped in wrapping paper with cute kitten patterns, which was propped against the carriage wall and looked, to my trained eyes, suspiciously like a cannon.
I didn't ask. And I wasn't going to. Some things, especially those involving Erza and her luggage, were simply better left unknown. For my own sanity.
"How long until we reach the village?" Lucy asked, turning from the window to face the group, her voice a little anxious. Her fingers were drumming nervously on her knee, and her eyes would, from time to time, shift to the agonising Natsu with a mixture of concern and an exasperation I understood perfectly.
"Approximately three more hours, if the train maintains this speed," Erza replied, taking a map from her pocket. The old paper crackled as she unfolded it on the little table between us, and her sharp, focused brown eyes scanned the lines and markings with a military efficiency that was both impressive and a little frightening. "Hosenka Village is in the mountains to the north. It's famous for its natural hot springs and its preserved traditional architecture."
Her finger, with its perfectly manicured nail, traced the route on the map. A serpentine line that climbed the mountains, passing through valleys and dense forests, until it reached a small dot on the map marked with a delicate icon of a steaming spring.
"Traditional architecture?" Lucy's brown eyes lit up with a renewed interest, her body leaning forward with enthusiasm. The spirit mage and her passion for books and stories. Predictable. And adorable. "Like… old Eastern style? With those wooden inns, with zen gardens and everything? And those arched red bridges over ponds with golden carp?"
"Exactly," Erza confirmed, folding the map with precise, quick movements, each crease perfectly aligned, as if she were folding a secret state document. "The village is famous for maintaining ancient traditions. They still wear yukatas, the rooms have tatami mats, there are tea ceremonies…"
She paused for a moment, mid-sentence. Something passed over her face. A fleeting shadow. A thought. A sudden and, apparently, terrible realisation. The movement of folding the map hesitated for a split second, her hand stopping in mid-air.
"…Futons."
The word left her lips, not with the same clarity as before, but more tensely, almost like a cursed whisper.
"Futons?" Lucy tilted her head, curious, oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere.
"Yes. Futons," Erza repeated, putting the map back in her pocket with a little more force than necessary, her fingers lingering on the fabric for an extra instant. "For sleeping. On the floor. In pairs or… sometimes…" – she swallowed hard, a visible movement in her throat – "…they can be… shared."
(Ah. I see. So that's it. How adorable.) An internal smile, full of a malice I wouldn't show, began to form. (Why is she blushing as if I've just told her the biggest secret in the universe?)
I could see the blush starting to form on her cheeks, subtle at first, like the first brushstroke of a dawn, but definitely there. A rosy colouring that contrasted beautifully with her fair skin and her scarlet hair.
[Physiological alteration detected in individual Erza Scarlet,] Eos's voice sounded, with the subtlety of an air-raid siren. [Heart rate increase of 8% and elevation of peripheral facial temperature. Probable correlation: she is, as humans quaintly put it, 'imagining scenarios'. Specific scenarios. Involving futons, the absence of armour, and, statistically, your presence in them.]
(Eos. Don't be so… graphic. And so precise.)
[I did not speculate, Azra'il. The data speaks for itself. I am merely presenting a logical conclusion based on the physiological evidence. She is panicking.]
"Kill… me… please…" Natsu's voice groaned from his corner of eternal suffering, his hands now covering his face, his fingers spread just enough to reveal a green eye rolled upwards. "Please… someone… have a shred of… mercy…"
The pathetic groan interrupted any wicked line of thought I might have been developing about Erza's panic. A shame.
"We can't kill you, Natsu," Happy said cheerfully from his floating observation post, hovering above the agonising Dragon Slayer with his little wings beating at a constant, carefree rhythm. The blue cat seemed completely and utterly indifferent to his best friend's existential suffering. "You still owe me ten fish from that bet we made. And you also owe Macao money. He'd be very upset if you died before paying your debts."
"Happy… you traitor… you are… the worst… the worst friend… in the entire universe…"
"Aye! And proud of it!" Happy replied, as if he had just received the highest of compliments, before dozing off again in mid-air.
The journey continued at this chaotic and familiar pace for another forty minutes of distant mountains slowly approaching in the window, of green fields giving way to dense, dark forests, of small villages passing by the window like blurs of colour, life, and movement.
Natsu alternated between groans of agony, each one more dramatic and theatrical than the last, and empty yet passionate threats to destroy all the trains in the world as soon as he recovered from his near-death state. At one point, he solemnly swore that he would personally find the inventor of rail transport in the afterlife and "show him the true meaning of suffering in motion." The fact that the inventor was probably dead, buried, and decomposed for decades didn't seem to matter in the slightest to his vehicular thirst for revenge.
Gray, in an act of pure unconscious exhibitionism, managed to lose his shirt three more times.
The first time, it simply disappeared in the middle of an argument with a semi-conscious Natsu about which of the two was worse: having chronic motion sickness or being a "congenital stripper with a fetish for hypothermia" (Natsu's words, not mine, but I couldn't have said it better myself).
The second time, Lucy, with a sigh that was already a part of her, found the crumpled blue fabric rolled up behind one of Erza's gigantic suitcases, as if the shirt had tried to escape and hide.
And the third time, and this one, I have to admit, was genuinely impressive, the shirt, somehow inexplicably and in a way that defied the very laws of our universe, ended up on the outside of the window, which was closed, hanging precariously on the outer ledge, flapping in the wind like a white flag of surrender. No one, not even Eos with all her sensors, could explain how that had happened.
"This," Lucy said, looking at the floating shirt through the glass with an expression of absolute disbelief and perhaps a little dread. "This… defies all known laws of physics, logic, and common sense."
"I AGREE," Gray said, equally perplexed, staring at his fugitive shirt as if it were an apparition.
He then opened the window to try and retrieve the rebellious piece of clothing, and the gust of wind that came in made the pages of Lucy's book, the one she had bravely tried to read three times and given up on after Natsu had nearly been sick on the third and most dramatic attempt, fly all over the compartment. The pages flapped against each other like the wings of a flock of frightened paper birds, before she managed to close the book with a dull thud and a look of pure frustration at Gray.
Happy, indifferent to all the chaos, was sleeping peacefully, floating in the air, defying gravity with the same insulting naturalness with which Gray defied the laws of propriety and decency. The little cat was suspended about half a metre above the seat, his little paws dangling relaxed, occasionally muttering something indecipherable about giant fish in his dreams. A tiny, delicate trickle of drool ran from the corner of his furry mouth. Such a serene creature.
And Erza…
Erza, my dear and valiant Erza, was strangely, almost frighteningly, quiet.
She hadn't said a single, paltry word in the last twenty minutes. Since the map. Since the mention of… futons.
Normally, this wouldn't be an alarm signal. Erza and I, over the years of a friendship forged in battles and suicidal missions, had developed a kind of silent comfort, a familiarity that didn't require constant and banal conversation to fill the space between us. On previous missions, on long and tiring journeys like this one, I had often ended up falling asleep, without even realising it, on her shoulder. And she, with her usual firmness, had never complained. On the contrary. I remember one time, coming back from a mission in the northern mountains, I woke up to find that she had, at some point, subtly adjusted her position so that I would be more comfortable, her arm serving as an extra support, a silent gesture of care that I, of course, pretended not to have noticed.
But today… today there was something palpably different.
She was sitting beside me, as always, our shoulders touching naturally with the gentle rocking of the train. That was normal. What was NOT at all normal was the way the fingers of her left hand, which were resting on her knee, were drumming in a frantic and uncontrolled rhythm, a silent beat of pure nervousness. Or how she swallowed hard every thirty seconds, as if she were trying to swallow her own heart which, I suspected, was trying to leap out of her throat. Or how the tips of her ears, which barely peeked out from behind her scarlet hair, had been a vivid and permanent red ever since she had, so recklessly, mentioned the word "futon".
(She is in a complete and utter psychotic breakdown. On the inside,) I thought, and I had to stop myself from laughing.
[The signs are unmistakable. Heart rate increase to 120 beats per minute, a 40% increase from her resting state, since the moment she processed the implication that the two of you will, most likely, be sharing a single room with futons. Her anxiety is measurable.]
(But why such panic now? We've slept in the same room dozens of times before.)
[Yes, Azra'il. In separate beds. In Western inns. Or, in some cases, on the cold floor of a dungeon. But apparently, the mental equation composed of "potentially shared futon" plus "fine silk yukatas" plus "you" is a variable that her brain, trained for battles and military strategies, cannot process without entering a state of systemic collapse. My data suggests it is adorable. In a pathetic sort of way.]
I looked at Erza out of the corner of my eye, careful not to be caught. And it was true. She was biting her lower lip with such force that I was genuinely worried she would draw blood. Her brown eyes were glazed over, staring at the window, but I was sure she wasn't seeing any of the scenery. Her mind, ah, her mind was very, very busy elsewhere.
Probably, and almost certainly, imagining scenarios.
Scenarios that involved futons. On the floor.
And yukatas. Fine. Silk ones.
And a proximity… that was inevitable.
(She's absolutely adorable when she's like this, isn't she?)
[If by "adorable" you mean a state of "absolute panic disguised as military composure," then yes, your assessment is correct.]
(Exactly.)
[And you are having immense fun with her suffering.]
(Immensely. It's the best entertainment I've had in weeks.)
As if she felt the weight of my gaze, or perhaps just my aura of sadistic amusement, Erza turned her head sharply in my direction. And our eyes met. For one single, fatal instant.
Her face, which was already an adorable shade of rosy embarrassment, exploded into a red so vivid, so intense, that it spread down her neck and ears like a wildfire.
"W-W-WHAT?! WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME?!" Her voice came out three octaves higher than normal, a high-pitched squeak that made even the sleeping Happy jump in the air.
"I didn't say a word, Titania," I replied, with the utmost calm and innocence I could muster.
"B-but… y-you were looking! With that face of yours that looks like you know something!" she accused, pointing a trembling finger at me.
"I was just looking out the window." A bare-faced lie. "You just happened to be in the way." An even bigger, and considerably more amusing, lie.
"Oh." She blinked, her brain short-circuiting, clearly wanting to believe any excuse that would get her out of this situation. "R-right. The window. On your side. Of course. Makes perfect sense."
It made no sense at all. The window was on HER side, not mine. But the great and powerful Titania was so desperate to escape this conversation that she was willing to question the very geometry of the carriage.
"So," I said, deciding to poke the beast a little more, with a casual tone I knew would make her even more nervous. "Looking forward to the hot springs? I hear they're great for relaxing the muscles."
"Y-YES! VERY! COMPLETELY! SPRINGS! HOT! WATER! HOT! EXTREMELY RELAXING!" Each word came out like a bullet fired from a nervous, aimless machine gun.
"And the yukatas?" I continued, with a smirk she couldn't see. "I hear the ones at the inn in Hosenka are made of a special silk. Very, very fine. And light. They say you can barely feel it on your body."
Erza made a sound that sounded like a balloon slowly and painfully deflating. A "hnnngk." "F-f-fine?"
"Very fine, from what the reviews say. Almost… transparent, if they happen to get a little wet."
The sound that came from her this time was definitely a squeak. A high, contained, and panic-filled squeak.
[You are genuinely cruel, Azra'il. My empathy sensors, if I had them, would be on high alert,] Eos commented, her tone purely analytical.
(I know. Isn't it marvellous?)
[She's going to have a brain aneurysm before we even reach the next station.]
(She's Erza. She's strong. She can handle a little emotional stress. It's good for her character development.)
"I-I… I NEED TO USE THE LAVATORY! EXCUSE ME!" Erza stood up so abruptly she hit her knee hard on the folding table between us, making my teacup wobble dangerously. She didn't even seem to feel the pain. She just muttered an "excuse me, excuse me" to a still-unconscious Natsu and practically ran down the carriage aisle, her legs a little wobbly, her ears still on fire.
Lucy watched her go, her head tilted, with an expression of pure and absolute confusion. "What, in the name of all the celestial spirits, has got into her now?"
"I have no idea," I said, with the most innocent face in the world, taking a sip of the tea I had bought earlier from the restaurant car, savouring the bitter taste and the sweet, sweet victory.
"But… did you say something that made her like that?" Lucy insisted, her brown eyes narrowing with a suspicion I found adorable.
"I only mentioned, in passing, the yukatas. Apparently, it's a very sensitive subject for her."
Lucy looked at me. Looked in the direction where Erza had practically fled, her red hair still visible in the carriage aisle. Looked at me again, at my smile that I was no longer bothering to hide. And a spark of understanding seemed to dawn in her mind.
"…Oh. I see. You did that on purpose, didn't you? You wicked thing."
"I don't know what you're talking about, my dear Lucy," I replied, bringing the cup to my lips again, the tea now lukewarm, but the moment, ah, the moment was perfect.
"Right," she said, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers drumming on her elbow. But, to my great amusement, there was a stubborn, conspiratorial smile wanting to escape at the corner of her lips. She knew. "You know she fancies you like that, don't you?"
"Hmm." A neutral sound, that neither confirmed nor denied.
"And you, clearly, fancy her too."
"Hmm."
"So why, in the name of all that is logical and rational, do you two keep playing this cat-and-mouse game?"
I considered the question for a moment, swirling the cup between my fingers, watching the amber liquid spin gently, like a miniature universe.
"Because," I replied, finally, looking directly into her curious eyes, with the purest and simplest honesty. "It's fun. And besides, she looks adorable when she's flustered."
Lucy blinked, her mouth falling slightly open in surprise. Clearly, she wasn't expecting such a direct answer, devoid of any cheesy romance.
"Fun? FUN?" She leaned forward, her hands gripping the edge of the seat, her voice dropping to a frustrated whisper that wasn't a whisper at all. "Erza nearly had a heart attack just now! She ran off to the lavatory! And that's 'fun' to you?!"
"Yes. A little, yes."
"You've known each other for YEARS, Azra'il! Since the Tower! YEARS!" Lucy threw her hands up in the air, her arms gesticulating frantically in the cramped space of the carriage. An elderly lady, who was knitting two seats away, looked at us with an expression of clear disapproval, as if we were desecrating her sanctuary of wool and silence. "I understand that Erza is… well, Erza; she's as dense as a brick wall when it comes to these things. But you?! You're not dense! You're frighteningly perceptive! You clearly know exactly what you're doing all the time!"
"Thank you," I said, with a nod, as if I had just received a great compliment.
"That wasn't meant to be a compliment!" she exclaimed, and pointed an accusing finger in my direction, the index finger trembling slightly with pure, genuine indignation.
"It sounded a lot like one, my dear."
Lucy made a sound of frustration that resembled a cat being drowned in a bucket of cold water, her hands pulling at her own blonde hair in desperation. "I don't understand! You're best friends since childhood! You clearly fancy each other, in a way that goes beyond friendship! Everyone in the guild who has eyes in their head can see it!" She started counting on her fingers, one by one, with a growing fury. "Mira knows! The Master, for sure, knows! Cana not only knows, she makes bets on when you two will finally sort it out! And even NATSU," – she emphasised the name as if it were a curse – "even Natsu has noticed! And he's as dense as an oak door! A very, very thick door!"
"Oi…" came a weak, offended groan from the other side of the carriage. Natsu, apparently, still had a shred of hearing functioning amidst his agony. "I'm not… that dense…"
"You are in the middle of a process of internal liquefaction, Natsu, please go back to suffering in silence," I said, without even turning around. His head fell back on the seat with a dull thud and an almost inaudible "…okay…"
Lucy turned her attention, now fully annoyed, back to me, her brown eyes sparking with a frustration that was almost palpable. "So, WHY?! Why do you keep teasing poor Erza instead of just…" She gestured vaguely in the air, her hands drawing random circles as if trying to materialise the words. "…I don't know… HAVING AN HONEST CONVERSATION WITH HER?! Like normal, adult people usually do in situations like this?"
"And since when," I asked, with a smirk, "has any of us in this guild ever been mistaken for a 'normal, adult person'?"
"THE POINT?!" Lucy almost shouted, her voice rising two octaves with pure disbelief, making several other heads turn in our direction with looks of disapproval. She immediately shrank back, looking around with her cheeks flushing furiously, and lowered her voice to a hissing whisper. "Relationships, Azra'il, are not about 'the point' or 'fun'! They are about… feelings! Communication! Emotional honesty! Trust! And, and… mutual vulnerability!"
I raised an eyebrow, the movement slow and deliberate, assessing her. "Are you, by any chance, getting these phrases from one of your dodgy-covered romance novels?"
The face of Lucy, which was already red, exploded into a shade of scarlet that would make Erza's hair envious. "N-no! Of course not!" She instantly looked away, her fingers starting to play nervously with a strand of her blonde hair, a clear sign that she was lying. "M-maybe! A little! But that's not the point!"
"What was the title? 'Romance for Beginners and Desperate Souls'? Or, perhaps, 'How Not to Die Alone in a Flat Full of Cats'?"
"I DON'T— THAT'S—" She stammered, turning even redder, her hands flapping in front of her face as if she could physically bat away my words and the embarrassing truth they carried. "We're not talking about MY books!"
"So you admit they are indeed your books, after all."
"I HAVE ADMITTED ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" Lucy crossed her arms tightly over her chest, turning her face to the side with an audible and childish "hmph."
"Hmm."
"STOP MAKING THAT SOUND IMMEDIATELY!" She stamped her foot on the carriage floor with a thud, the movement making the wooden planks creak in protest.
I took another sip of my tea, which was cold by now, and let the silence stretch for a few seconds, just for the pleasure of seeing the little vein in Lucy's forehead throb with pure, contained frustration. It was throbbing quite a lot, actually. Fascinating.
"Lucy," I said finally, with a calm I knew would irritate her even more, lowering the cup with a soft click on the folding table. "Have you, by any chance, ever been in a serious relationship?"
The question, as expected, caught her completely by surprise. She blinked, and all her indignation and frustration seemed to drain away for an instant, replaced by utter confusion. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again, without any sound coming out.
"I-I— that's not— that's none of your business!" She pointed at me, then at herself, then at me again, her index finger trembling in the air. "We're not talking about ME! We're talking about you and Erza!"
"So, that's a no," I stated, as a fact.
"I COULD HAVE HAD ONE! SEVERAL!" Lucy straightened up on the seat, her chin held high in a defensive pose that was almost adorable. "If I'd wanted to, of course! I just… I just didn't want to! I was focused on other things!"
"Hmm."
"Stop making that bloody sound!" she leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with a threat that was not at all threatening. "It's irritating!"
"Hmm."
"ARGH! YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE!" Lucy pulled at her own hair with both hands, the blonde strands standing on end between her fingers in a gesture of pure and utter defeat. "Why is everyone in this guild so— so—"
"So," I interrupted her, with a soft, logical voice that was like throwing cold water on her crisis, "you've never had a serious relationship, but you're giving me passionate advice on how I should handle mine?"
"I wasn't giving you advice!" Lucy let go of her hair, crossing her arms again, sulking. "I was just… questioning your life choices! Based on my observation!"
"Ah, yes. And this vast experience in observation came from where, exactly? From your imaginary life experience and the novels you read in secret?"
"BASED ON LOGIC! AND ON COMMON SENSE!" she slapped her own knee with her open hand to emphasise the point. "Things that, apparently, you do not possess, despite all your age and ancestral wisdom!"
"I have common sense. A great deal of it," I retorted calmly.
"You are deliberately PLAYING with the feelings of your childhood best friend, the woman you clearly love, because you think it's 'fun'!" Lucy threw her hands up in the air again, exasperated. "That, Azra'il, is not common sense! It's cruelty! It's insanity!"
"It's just a… different perspective from yours."
"IT'S INSANITY, I TOLD YOU!"
We were silent for a moment. A heavy silence. Lucy was huffing with frustration, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I, on the other hand, was perfectly calm, finishing the last sip of my now-cold tea, enjoying the little storm I had created.
The train rocked as it passed over a particularly uneven track. Natsu groaned in his motion-sick sleep. And Gray, on the other side of the carriage, muttered something sleepy about not being a "stripper" and "where's my shirt." And Happy continued to snore, floating serenely, with a small, delicate bubble of saliva inflating and deflating at the corner of his furry mouth. The world continued to turn.
"Okay," Lucy said finally, taking a deep breath, as if she were surrendering. She closed her eyes, and I could see her lips moving, probably counting to ten in silence so as not to attack me with one of her keys. She tried to compose herself. "Okay, Azra'il. I'll try again. In a more… calm way."
She opened her eyes, and there was a sincerity in her gaze that replaced the anger. She adjusted herself on the seat, as if preparing for a very, very important diplomatic negotiation. "Seriously now. Why don't you take the initiative? You are clearly the more experienced and the more confident of the two of you."
"That is precisely why, Lucy," I replied.
She frowned, the little crease of confusion between her eyebrows deepening. "What do you mean, 'precisely why'? That makes no sense."
I looked out the window for a moment, watching the distant mountains pass by, the snow-covered peaks shining under the afternoon sun, a world of calm and beauty that seemed so distant from the chaos in our carriage.
"In almost my entire life, Lucy. In almost all my interactions, with almost everyone I have ever felt something for… I have always been the one to take the first step. The predator. The one who pursued. The one who conquered. The one who took the initiative." The words came out softer than I intended, laden with the weight of memories she would never understand. "Just once, Lucy. Just one single time… I want to be the person someone chooses. Someone who comes to me, not because I cornered or seduced them, but because they want me enough to overcome their own fear, their own hesitation, and simply… come."
"Oh." Lucy's expression softened instantly, her shoulders relaxing, all her frustration dissipating like smoke. Her gaze, previously irritated, was now filled with a gentleness and an understanding that caught me off guard. "That… that, actually, is quite…"
"If you say the word 'cute', I swear I will throw you from this moving train," I warned, without the slightest hint of a joke in my voice.
"—comprehensible! Comprehensible! I was going to say totally comprehensible!" Lucy held up her hands in a gesture of surrender, her eyes wide, as if I had just actually threatened her. Which I might have. "I swear! By all my spirits!"
"Hmm."
"It's true! I wasn't going to say cute! I swear on my Aquarius key!"
"Your right ear twitches a little when you lie so blatantly."
Lucy instinctively brought a hand to her ear, her fingers touching the skin as if she could, somehow, stop the treacherous twitching. "N-no, it doesn't! And I wasn't lying! And… and how do you know that?! Do you just analyse me all the time?!" She stared at me with a mixture of indignation and a growing horror.
"I pay attention, Lucy. To the details. It's what I do."
"That's frightening."
"Thank you," I replied, with a small smile.
Lucy stared at me for a long moment, her large brown eyes studying my face as if seeing me for the first time. A mixture of frustration, resignation, and something that looked like reluctant admiration passed over her expression.
"Alright," she sighed finally, her shoulders slumping in complete and utter defeat. "Alright, Azra'il, you win. I understand your point. More or less. You want Erza, our Erza, to take the initiative." She leaned back, resting her back against the seat with an air of weariness. "But, let's be honest, you know what she's like! She's AWFUL at these things! She's a walking emotional disaster! The woman probably thought 'flirting' meant challenging the person to a duel to the death!"
"And you'd be spot on. I still remember that era," a ghost of an amused smile threatened to appear at the corner of my mouth. "She challenged me seven times when we were younger. Every time right after I had complimented her hair or told her she looked good in a particular suit of armour."
"SEVEN TIMES?!" Lucy straightened up again, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets with pure disbelief.
"It was a fun time in our friendship," I said, with an air of nostalgia.
"And you never realised what was happening?! You did NOTHING?!"
"Of course I did. I won all seven duels," I shrugged slightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It was good exercise. And I teased her about it afterwards."
"That's not— UGH! Forget it!" Lucy threw herself back in the seat, covering her face with both hands, her voice coming out muffled from between her fingers. "You two are completely and irredeemably impossible. A lost cause for science and common sense."
"You've already said that. Several times, in fact."
"And I'll keep saying it until it makes some sense in my head!" she peeked through her fingers, her eyes narrowing in my direction.
We were silent for a few seconds, the only sound the rattling of the train, Happy's soft snoring, and the occasional groan from Natsu. The smell of food started to drift from the restaurant car, making Happy's stomach rumble even in his deep sleep, which was a feat.
Lucy slowly lowered her hands, her fingers drumming on her knee in an anxious, thoughtful rhythm.
"But like…" she began again, her innate curiosity clearly winning over her accumulated frustration. "What if Erza, being Erza, never takes the initiative? Are you really going to wait forever? For your whole… life?"
"I have a lot of time, Lucy. And I am patient. As long as it takes," I replied, looking at the passing scenery.
"That's very dramatic," Lucy rolled her eyes.
"I am an intrinsically dramatic person, my dear. I thought that was already clear."
"Clearly," she huffed, but this time, there was a small, conspiratorial smile wanting to escape at the corner of her mouth. "Okay, then. Changing the subject, before my head explodes from trying to understand the logic of you two—"
"Ah, but since we are talking about relationships and initiatives," I interrupted her, with a casual tone of voice that was pure trap.
Lucy froze mid-sentence, the words dying in her throat. Her eyes widened with a suspicion that was almost palpable. "…W-what?"
"Since you are so interested and full of advice about my love life," I tilted my head slightly, letting a minimal and dangerous smile escape, my eyes shining with a calculated amusement. "When, exactly, do you plan on asking Mirajane out?"
The silence that followed my question was delicious. Absolutely delicious.
For a moment, Lucy didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe. She looked like a particularly well-made wax statue that someone had forgotten to put away, with an expression of pure panic frozen on her face.
Then, like a flower blooming in super-fast-motion, her face began to change colour. First, a pale pink. Then, a vivid red. And finally, a shade of scarlet that would make Erza herself envious.
"I-I— WHAT?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" Her voice came out as a strangled squeak, cracking pathetically in the middle. "Me and— and MIRA?! TOGETHER?! ON A DATE?!" She shot up from the seat so fast, in a movement of pure panic, that she hit her head hard on the luggage rack above. "OW!"
"Careful there, blondie. The truth, sometimes, hurts," I commented, with a calm that was the opposite of her state.
"What do you— this is— we're not— there's nothing!" Lucy rubbed the top of her head with one hand, the other gesticulating frantically in the air, as if trying to bat my words away.
"Hmm," I murmured, the sound laden with disbelief.
"STOP MAKING THAT SOUND! I'M SERIOUS!" She sat down again, her face still on fire. "Me and Mira have nothing! We're just… friends! Yes! Friends! A NORMAL friend! That's all!"
"You turn the colour of a ripe pepper every time she serves you a drink at the bar."
"Of course I do! I turn red because— because the guild bar is HOT! Yes, that's it! It's near the kitchen! And there's… steam! A lot of steam!" Lucy began to fan her own face with her hands.
"You stammer as if you've just seen a ghost every time she speaks to you."
"I… I stammer with everyone! It's just… social nervousness! I'm a slightly shy person!"
"Only with her. With me you shout and argue all the time."
"That's not— that's different! You're irritating!"
"And you watch her when you think no one is looking, with an expression that you only see in fairy tales," I raised a finger, counting. "Last week, you stood there staring at her for almost half a minute, like a statue, just because she smiled at you while cleaning a glass."
"TH-THAT'S A BARE-FACED LIE! I DIDN'T DO THAT!"
"I counted the seconds, Lucy. It was very romantic. And a little pathetic."
Lucy opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, like a fish out of water. "Th-that doesn't… doesn't prove anything…" she finally managed to babble. "Mira is just… she's very nice! To everyone! Those smiles of hers don't mean anything special! She smiles like that at everyone!"
"No, she doesn't. And she gives you extra portions of food at lunch."
"She's just… generous!"
"Only to you, from what I've noticed."
"That's not true! I'm sure she gives extra portions to everyone who asks!"
"No, I've watched carefully." I took a sip of my now-completely-cold tea, but the gesture was what mattered. It helped to set the character. "Natsu asks for seconds and she charges him for every Jewel. Gray too. You, my dear, don't even ask, and she's already filling your plate again, with a smile that would make an angel weep."
Lucy blinked, processing the information, a new crease of confusion and perhaps of hope forming on her forehead. "…Does… does she really do that?"
"Every single time. It's almost a ritual."
"But… but that could just be… just because she thinks I'm too thin!"
"And she always asks, with an almost maternal concern, if you liked the food. If it was cooked just right. If you'd like to try something different tomorrow."
"That… that's just… excellent customer service!" she insisted, though her conviction was visibly waning.
"She doesn't ask that of anyone else in the guild. And I am a much more demanding customer than you."
Lucy was silent for a moment, her face going through several fascinating shades of red, pink, and panic, as she clearly re-evaluated, in her mind, every single one of her recent interactions with our dear and apparently not-so-impartial barmaid.
"And," I added casually, as if I were just commenting on the weather, to deliver the final blow, "I heard her asking Levy what your favourite book was last week. And Cana, what your favourite drink was, besides the usual cheap ale."
"WHAT?! SHE DID THAT?!" Lucy straightened up as if she'd been zapped. "But… why?!"
"Oh, Lucy… Why do you think?"
She bit her lower lip, her fingers now nervously twisting the fabric of her skirt, her eyes lost in the void. "…Oh," she said finally, and her voice was small, a whisper. "Oh no."
"Oh, yes."
"But… but this… this can't be… you… you're making all this up, aren't you?!" she accused me, her voice rising again. "You're trying to distract me! To change the subject so you don't have to talk about you and Erza!"
"Am I?" I asked, with the utmost innocence I could muster.
"YES! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"
"The question, Lucy, is not whether I'm making it up or not. It's: what are you going to do with this information now that you have it?"
Lucy stared at me, and there was a chaotic mixture of horror and a small, stubborn spark of hope in her eyes, her fingers still twisting her skirt tightly. "Do you… do you really think that she… that Mira…?"
"I don't 'think' anything. I just observe and report the facts. I'm telling you what I've seen. The interpretation is all yours."
"But—"
"But if you keep waiting for her to take the initiative, while she, apparently, is waiting for you to take the initiative," I shrugged, with a sigh that was pure exasperation, "you two, my dears, will be stuck in this limbo of furtive glances, extra portions, and indirect questions forever. Which, while amusing to watch in the short term, will eventually become terribly tedious."
Lucy shot daggers at me, a new and different flame in her eyes. "Wait a minute. That's exactly, but exactly, what YOU are doing with Erza!"
"I know," I replied, with a smirk. "That's why, my dear, I recognise the pattern from a mile away. It's like looking in a mirror… a much noisier, blonder, and considerably more naive mirror, but a mirror nonetheless."
"YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE!"
"Thank you. I take that as a compliment."
Lucy groaned, sinking into the seat with defeat written on every fibre of her being. "I hate you," she muttered.
"No, you don't."
"I hate you A LITTLE. Just for today."
"That's fair."
After a few seconds of a heavy silence, a smile began to slowly form on her face. And it wasn't a pleasant, innocent smile. It was a… strategic smile. Malicious. The smile of someone who has just had a terribly vengeful idea.
"You know what, Azra'il?"
"What's that?" I asked, an eyebrow arching.
"If I'm going to suffer with all this anxiety and embarrassment, so are you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, yes you do." She lifted her chin, with a defiant glint that I had never seen in her before. "I'll make you a deal. If I, Lucy Heartfilia, promise to work up the courage and ask Mira out when we get back to the guild…"
"Hmm… an interesting proposal. Continue."
"…then you," – she pointed a finger at me, and this time, it did not tremble – "you, Azra'il Weiss, have to at least give one single, paltry, but absolutely clear sign to Erza."
"Define, please, the term 'clear sign'."
"Anything! Hold her hand when she's not expecting it! Tell her her hair is pretty! Give her a sincere compliment without any layer of sarcasm! SOMETHING REAL, damn it!"
"Hmm. An audacious proposal."
"Is that a yes or a no?!"
"It's a 'I will consider your proposal with due care and risk analysis'," I replied, in my best bureaucratic tone.
"AZRA'IL, BE SERIOUS!"
"Lucy."
We stared at each other for a few seconds, a silent impasse, a battle of wills.
"Fine, fine," Lucy conceded first, sighing in defeat. "'I will consider' is probably the best I'm going to get from you, isn't it?"
"Probably, yes."
"You really are impossible."
The lavatory door at the back of the carriage opened with a soft click.
And Lucy and I turned at the same time to see Erza returning, her face almost its normal colour, her posture rigidly and proudly composed.
"Hey, Erza!" Lucy said, her tone of voice instantly changing to something too sweet and innocent to be true. "Back from the lavatory! Everything alright in there?"
(This brat. She learns too quickly,) I thought, hiding a smile behind my teacup.
[She is learning to be vengeful and to manipulate social situations, Azra'il. She has had a good teacher. Impressive.]
Erza stopped in the aisle, and her eyes went from Lucy, with her false smile, to me, with my contained smile, with a suspicion that was almost palpable. "Yes. Everything's fine. What were you two talking about with such… enthusiasm?"
"Nothing!" Lucy said, a little too quickly. "Nothing much! Just… relationships!"
The simple word "relationships" made Erza visibly stiffen, as if she'd been zapped. "R-relationships?"
"Yes! And how some people should just stop messing about and being stubborn and just admit what they feel for each other." Lucy, the little traitor, shot me a significant and challenging look over Erza's shoulder. "Isn't that right, Azra'il?"
"Absolutely," I replied, looking directly at Lucy, completely ignoring Erza's confused presence between us. "Some people should work up the courage, stop reading books on the subject, and just ask out the person they fancy. Life is too short for so much drama."
Lucy's face turned red again, this time with anger and embarrassment.
Erza, on the other hand, looked between the two of us, completely and utterly lost. "…Did… did I miss something important while I was away?"
"No," Lucy and I said in a perfect and not-at-all-suspicious unison.
"You two are being very, very strange."
"No, we're not," we denied again, in a chorus that only made us even more suspicious.
Erza sighed, the sound of someone deciding that some battles are simply not worth fighting, and sat down beside me, clearly making the wise decision to completely ignore our strange little cold war.
A very, very wise decision, indeed.
The warmth of her body, as her shoulder brushed against mine with the natural sway of the train, was familiar and, I admit, comforting. She crossed her arms, her posture still a little stiff, tense from our earlier conversation, but gradually, as the minutes passed in a relatively peaceful silence, I felt her relax beside me.
On the other side of the carriage, Natsu's head lifted from the seat with an effort that seemed almost superhuman, his face still a worrying shade of green and pale.
"What… were you all… talking about…?" he managed to murmur, his voice as weak as a dying man's.
"NOTHING," Lucy, Erza, and I said in a unison so perfect it was almost frightening.
"It sounds… it sounds like it was… gossip…" He tried to sit up, his arms trembling under his weight, failed miserably, and collapsed back onto the seat with a dull thud. "I want… to know… the details…"
"You want to be sick. In silence," Gray said, without even opening his eyes. "And preferably, not in my direction."
"Shut… up… you pretentious… stripper…"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING—" Gray opened his eyes, looking down with fury. And his face contorted into a mask of pure and absolute perplexity. "…Where… where is my shirt again?!"
[That is the fourth time this journey.]
(I, honestly, stopped counting a long time ago.)
__________
📢 Author's Note — Future Chaos Planning
__________
Alright, everyone… I'm here very quickly (this is a lie, it's never quick) just to say that the next arcs are already being carefully cooked inside this chaotic brain of mine. 👀✨
We're heading into some VERY important phases of the story, narratively and… potentially domestically dangerous.
Because yes.
In the chapters I'm currently writing…
Azra'il and Erza are officially dating and having intimate interactions, if you know what I mean. 🫣❤️🔥
And that brings me to a question of extreme importance for the future of this fanfic:
🥜 THE POLL OF DESTINY (aka: the tiny peanut)
Would you like Azra'il and Erza to have a child in the story?
⚠️ Responsible author warning (sometimes):
If this happens, it will impact the plot a lot, pregnancy, couple dynamics, arc timing, emotional chaos, possibly an absurdly overpowered child running around Magnolia… you get the idea.
So I REALLY want to hear your thoughts before I make any final decisions.
What do you think?
- 🍼 YES — I want a tiny red-haired wolf chaos gremlin
- ⏳ MAYBE — Depends on when and how it would happen
- 🚫 NO — Let my warriors breathe (for now 👀)
Drop your votes and your arguments in the comments.
The author is watching.
The author is judging.
The author will probably suffer regardless of the outcome.