Date: July 7, X791 – Night
Location: Fairy Tail main hall, Crocus
The Fairy Tail guildhall was full—full of people, full of noise, full of life.
Long wooden tables sagged under piles of food and mugs of drink. The air buzzed with overlapping conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional slam of a fist on the table as someone got too worked up telling their battle story. Every voice blended into the next, arguments turning into jokes, bragging turning into cheers. It smelled like roast meat, spilled ale, and healing salves—warm, chaotic, alive.
But beneath all the noise, something else lingered.
Everyone remembered the dragons. Everyone remembered the girl with the pale, winged appearance.
She had saved the city. That wasn't in question. But the image of her — silent, glowing, otherworldly — hovered over the guild like smoke that wouldn't quite clear.
At the bar, Macao sat hunched over a drink he hadn't touched. Kinana stood beside him, turning a glass slowly in her hands.
"She saved us," Macao said, his voice low and tired. "No doubt about that. But the way she looked…" He shook his head. "Those eyes. It was like staring into death."
Kinana nodded, her eyes unfocused. "I didn't feel like she was with us. It felt like… she wasn't fighting for us, just fighting. Like we happened to be on the same side."
At a nearby table, Lucy sat between Levy and Juvia, her fingers laced tightly together on the table, knuckles white.
"I can't stop thinking about her eyes," Lucy said quietly. "She looked right through me. Like I wasn't even there, I know she helped us… but I don't know if it was really for us. Or if the dragons were just in her way."
Levy reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "She's different. Always has been. I don't think she sees the world like we do."
Juvia looked down into her lap. "It felt like she didn't have a heart left to feel with," she said, almost to herself. "Juvia knows loneliness, but that… that was something else. It was like the inside of her was already gone."
Across the hall, Erza sat upright, her sword resting against the table. Gray sat next to her, arms crossed, his eyes on the ceiling like he was trying to find answers in the woodwork.
"She's powerful," Erza said finally. "No one can deny that. Stronger than any of us, maybe. But that kind of strength… it cuts deep. And without control, it cuts everything."
Gray leaned forward. "Yeah. That's what I'm thinking. Can you trust someone like that? A blade that sharp — what happens if you get in its way?" He scanned the room. "She cut through dragons today. What if tomorrow, she decides someone else is in her path?"
Erza's gaze softened. "There's pain in her. I saw it. She keeps herself sharp because it's the only way she knows how to survive. Maybe she's scared of feeling again."
In the corner, at a smaller table away from the noise, Romeo sat with a mug of warm milk between his hands. Wendy sat across from him, her hands folded neatly, her expression calm.
"Romeo?" she asked gently. "You've been quiet all night."
He looked up, his eyes steady, but burning. "I've been thinking. About her. About how she sees the world."
He took a slow breath. "She thinks connections make you weak. That caring gets you hurt. She's wrong."
Wendy gave him a soft smile. "We fight because we care. That's what makes us strong."
Romeo nodded. "Exactly. She lost that once, I think. And now she thinks warmth will get her killed. But for me… that warmth is what gives my blade its edge." He looked down at his mug. "I'm going to show her that. Somehow. Someday."
A deep laugh rumbled from the table behind him. Laxus clapped him on the shoulder.
"You've got guts, kid," Laxus said with a half-smile. "But don't let her freeze you out before you even get the chance."
Romeo didn't flinch. "I won't. I'm not giving up on her."
Behind the bar, Mira wiped down glasses with her usual calm, her smile gentle but distant. Her eyes followed the movement of her guildmates—the laughter, the arguments, the thoughtful silences. She watched them like someone trying to hold something together with quiet hands.
"Teresa…" she whispered. "What kind of pain are you carrying around?"
Then came a loud thump.
A mug hit the table hard. Everyone turned.
Natsu stood up, his usual grin replaced with something sharper, more certain. Fire flickered at the corners of his mouth.
"So what if she's scary?" he said, voice rising. "She fought for us! She took down monsters without blinking. That's what matters."
Happy, still mid-bite on a fish, blinked wide-eyed. "Aye… but she is pretty scary, Natsu."
Natsu shrugged. "Doesn't matter. If someone protects their friends, I don't care what they look like. Maybe she doesn't see us as friends yet… but that just means we've got work to do."
The room went quiet after that.
Voices dropped. Even the laughter faded.
Because they all knew he was right, in his way. Fairy Tail was made of all kinds—misfits, wild cards, broken hearts. They weren't perfect. But they stood together. They held onto their bonds like lifelines. That was what made them Fairy Tail.
And somewhere out there, watching from a rooftop or fading into shadow, Teresa was still alone. Still sharp. Still distant.
But she had stood with them. Even if she didn't say it out loud. Even if she didn't believe it herself yet.
Macao finally raised his glass.
"To Teresa," he said. Not a cheer. More of a quiet salute. "Whatever she is… she was with us when it counted."
Around the hall, mugs lifted one by one. Some were raised high. Some are just halfway. Some with full hearts, some with questions. But they lifted them all the same.
Romeo held his mug in both hands, silent.
He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
His promise was still there, burning brighter than any fire in the room. He would find her, no matter how many walls she built around herself. He would walk with her, even if it meant getting cut by the edge she used to protect herself.
Above the bar, the Fairy Tail emblem caught the firelight, glowing faintly against the wall.
It stood for bonds, for hope, for second chances.
And even though Teresa wasn't with them tonight, her presence lingered—like a shadow in the corner of the room. Like the last note of a song that hadn't quite faded.
She was a blade. But even blades, in time, could learn to echo.