Chapter Text
With a glass of water in hand, I walked up to my map. Looking at it now reminded me of that omnipresent internet meme back home. The one with that harried conspiracy theorist from some sitcom with all his post-it notes and loose papers pinned to a corkboard by a red thread. Only my ‘conspiracy board’ was a map of Fiore and the surrounding kingdoms, fettered with little pins marking approximate locations and little names tagged in torn parchment.
Now, to find a water spirit.
Grabbing a pin from my desk, I dropped it into my glass of water and hovered a hand over it, eyes closed. In my mind, I focused on every instance I’d seen a certain mermaid use her monsoon-level magic. A faint blue glow burned beyond my eyes. I bit back a smile. Focus, ready-? Deep breath in. Hear the wash of the water, see the glow of the stars, imagine what her magic feels like. Swift like a coursing river, with the force of a great typhoon- one, two, Three!
I flung my hand forward. Water slushed from my cup like it had a tide of its own. A split second later - thump! I opened my eyes, and there it was. Haha!
Bingo.
The thumbtack glowed luminescent blue in the dark. The Heartfilia Kozern was not explicitly marked on any one map. (I presume for privacy reasons). But when I stepped closer to try and read- Huh. Not where I thought it would be.
Eh. Doesn’t matter. Even if I can’t teleport all that way, there is something I can do if I decide to take the train. My gaze flicked to the little pine box loitering on my desk, still unopened. Later. I promised myself.
With that, I grabbed the glowing thumbtack, stored it in my requip space, and then went to bed.
Everything’s on fire. Everything is burning. Blood stains wood and stone and pools beneath my feet. The stench of rot and baking flesh scorched my throat. My stomach heaves. The destructive carnage, the sting of smoke—my eyes water. Beyond the fire, I can’t hear a thing. I can’t bear to think beyond the pounding in my ears. My heart turns to a quivering kick drum. Each beat rattles every bone in my chest. Pulse-pounding, feet stumbling-
Where? Where is everyone? Where am I? Is this-?!
Something within me knows the answer before I can even ask. I look down. A familiar head of blue hair lies prone facedown at my feet. Her torso was stained with the blood pooling beneath her. Eyes glazed and unseeing. There was no sign of her home or living room carpet anywhere to be found.
Eileen McGarden. She’s just…there. Her mouth slacks as if she’d forgotten how to speak. But she was dead. She was killed in her home. What is she doing amid all this carnage? Why am I just standing here?
I fall to my knees beside her, yanking the nearest rag I can find in the rubble. The fabric crumples in my fist. -Wait. That’s not even fabric. It feels like plastic. But that can’t be. I’d never seen any plastic shit in the Fairy Tail universe. What in the hell-? I look behind me - it is plastic. A plastic, zip-lined bag that sends an eerie prickle down my spine. I know what this is—an experimental tug. Something falls through the zipper gap. My breath is sapped from my chest.
Gramps.
Crawling doesn’t feel like moving. Never realised how loud my movements should have been until I couldn’t hear them anymore. On my trembling hands and scraped knees I find my way to his corpse. Everything is dark all of a sudden, as if someone drew a thick black curtain between me and the carnage all around me. All that’s left is me…and two pale, cold bodies.
Could’ve sworn that layer of dust wasn’t there last time. Could’ve sworn that bed wasn’t there last time. Instead, it was an at-home hospital bed with adjustable railings and angles like a triangle in maths class. Find out which angle makes him comfortable. Find out which side keeps him safe. Solve for…nothing.
Bees buzz over my ears. The whole world muffled as if walking through water. I grasp blindly in the dark, searching for that familiar, calloused palm until the memory-
Tap-tap-tap.
‘You can recite poems from memory?!’
‘Yup!’
Gramps popped the ‘p’ as he always did. That goofy crescendo in his voice came from jutting his chin. ‘Poetry enriches the mind, keeps me sharp,’ He told me, ‘Observe: Two Roads diverged in a Yellow Wood….’
‘Mmm~, already know that one. Had to read it for school.’
I see the way he’d turn and pout at me. Well, he’d never let me call it pouting. But that sour-lemon look really couldn’t be anything else. Those sagging jowls and crow’s feet around his eyes didn’t help. I hear him snort behind his frown. ‘Some say the world will end in fire, some in Ice—’
‘Oh, come on! Everybody knows that one. What about another one?’
‘Bah! Another one, she says, downright ungrateful….’ His words dissolve into mutters around my too-loud laughter. Giggling and snorting like a hyena dowsed in itching powder. But I remember how his lips twitched, even as he rolled his eyes.
Knock-knock-knock.
Static warbles for a moment, and then it all becomes clear.
Shuttered ripping, like tape tearing away from something. Or cardboard tearing away from itself. Rustling…that has got to be tissue paper or something. I hear Grandma’s hiccuping laughter. Mirth shines in every word when I hear His voice—
‘Ha-ha! Alas! Poor Yorick, I knew thee well~’
A huff of breath. My cheeks pinch in a smile. I got him a beanie with those exact words, the first time I went to London. Grandma sent me pictures of his bulldog scowl. He wore it every Winter.
BANG-BANG-BANG!
What the-?! All of a sudden, I’m back in my bed. Staring at my ceiling at the sound of someone banging on the nearby door.
“Korra-nee!” A familiar voice was calling from the other side. “Korra-nee, it’s happening! One of the cards is going off!”
That got me. I sprung out of bed and raced to sling the door open. Standing in my office with a card held above her head was little bed-headed Cana. Frazzled and wide-eyed as if the flashing card in her hand had also woken her up. Looking beyond her out the windows, I see it’s still pitch-dark outside. I rub my face with one hand and groan. We were supposed to move the girls into the dormitory tomorr- well, probably later this morning. First, that fucking nightmare, and now this?
But this takes precedence.
As long as Cana had been practising magic, she’d looked after our guildmates. Wondering when Gildarts was coming home. Figuring out where Ivan had stolen Laxus to. Checking to see how Juvia was feeling on our Onibus mission. She’s even used her magic a few times since to check in with Levy and Ms Eleanor. Only recently had she figured out how to make her cards into two-way pagers between guild members. Thus, she got a message from Master Makarov during our training session a few weeks ago.
Once I realised that was possible, she and I got to work trying to engineer homing cards for wizards who aren’t a part of Fairy Tail yet. Something which proved surprisingly tricky since these future members don’t yet have our guild mark. Figuring out a near-stranger’s emotional state was one thing, but gathering enough information to figure out their exact location was a whole ‘nother ball game. But from the looks of things - now that we’re into the new year, our hard work has paid off. The card she held above her head, with the green lightning bolt on a rosy-red background, flared an almost violent purple colour.
But, since these cards were still a work in progress, the blaring colour could mean one of two things. One, the person’s magic has officially activated for the first time. Or Two, the wizard in question is now in horrifying mortal danger. Screw the nightmares, screw the time of day; I’m not taking that chance.
“Alright,” I take Cana’s hand. Time to fight or make friends. “You ready?”
“Ready!”
“Allons-y!”
Both of us sent a surge of magic through the card. In a flash of emerald and turquoise, Cana and I both dropped into the middle of a decadent room. Every corner was decked out in all mahogany furniture, hung with curtains of deep red damask. A large, stately bed stood out like a tabernacle in the centre. Sitting atop it, surrounded by dog-earred tomes, sat a small boy. He couldn’t have been much older than I appeared to be. Bracketed by two large moonlit windows, I saw the unmistakable flash of mint green hair in the dark.
“Gah!” the young boy yelped. “What in Earthla-who are you?!”
Cana and I immediately threw our hands up by our ears. “Ah, sorry to interrupt,” I offered with a sheepish smile. So, not an emergency, then. Great. “It’s okay to relax, kid. We’re guild wizards, we come in peace.”
Somewhere in the middle of my words, I heard the distinct ‘shink’ of a sword. Cana bit back a squeak. “Why should I believe you? Where’s your proof?!”
I rolled up the sleeve of my pyjamas to show him my wrist. Cana hiked up her sleep shirt to do the same. Freed’s face burned red in the dark.
“O-okay, put it down! How did you get in my room?”
“Magic, duh.” Cana waved one of her cards for emphasis. The young socialite’s embarrassment quickly fizzled into disconcernment.
“Why do you have a card inscribed to find my location?”
“Cause we thought you might be in danger,” I said. It was the simplest way I could think to put it.
But apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the words left my mouth, all the colour drained from the young boy’s face. “Why am I in danger? Am I going to get kidnapped-?” His eyes widened. “-Is this a kidnapping? Were you two going to smother me in my sleep and-”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa! Slow your roll there, kiddo,” I waved my arms, cutting him off while he was ahead. “First, no self-respecting light guild would take a kidnapping job. Second, no self-respecting dark guild would send two children just to kill another one, okay? Geez, if you’ve got schtick like that running through your head, no wonder you can’t sleep.”
“Hey! Who said I couldn’t sleep?”
I hefted a pointed look to the spread of parchment and open books before him. A streak of embarrassment flared across his nose.
“These aren’t about kidnapping! They’re-” Young Freed protested. The next half of his thought seemed to be caught in his throat. His hands trembled on the grip of his sword. Something too long and heavy for a boy his age. He looked at the books around him with a pinched sort of- “-they’re…about magic.”
Cana gasped in excitement. “So that’s why your card went off! You activated your magic!”
“No way, he did it just by reading?” I asked, nose scrunched. My gaze oscillated between one kid and the next. “-you did it just by reading?”
“Well-no, of course not! I did it by putting the exercises into practice!” the boy stammered. Trembling, he decided to put down his sword. Though he still did his darndest to glare us down as if we found him intimidating.
My head ticked a little to one side. Huh, this kid’s just as well-spoken as Juvia. Perhaps even better. Can’t say I’m surprised, though. After all, this is Freed Justine we’re talking about here. The guy’s always been verbose as all hell. Sometimes to the point of distraction. My lips twitched. “Well, good for you, Stringbean,” I said, “What kinda magic are you reading?” Of course, I already knew the answer, but still. Didn’t hurt rapport at all to ask.
Young Freed stills. “Uhm. Runes. Runes and - languages and stuff.”
I deadpanned. And here I was just complimenting his vocabulary…. He was just staying up late studying and activated his magic out of pure curiosity, wanting to try something—cue his interest in ‘Runes and languages and stuff’. Jeez, bet you he and little Levy’ll get along like a house on fire. I winced a little at the mental image. Too soon.
“Really?” Cana picked up my slack with avid aplomb. “That’s just like Levy-chan! She and her Granny are going to be script-mages someday.”
Took the words right out of my mouth, kid. I thought with a smile. I tapped her on the shoulder with a brief finger to my lips. It was the middle of the night, after all. She clapped her hands over her mouth, quickly abashed. A ruffle of hair, and she sent me a sheepish smile.
Freed's entire posture had changed in the time it took for us to have our silent little exchange. Now sitting on his legs, all defensive tension had melted from his body. Instead, beyond that curtain of bedhead hair, his eyes were wide in the moonlight. His face seemed at war with itself. On the one hand, he stared at us with open-mouthed intrigue. As if he had a million questions waiting to spill off his tongue.
On the other hand, his brows kept fidgeting, insisting he should be on the defensive - or perhaps the offensive - around us. A pair of strange wizard children who’d popped into his room unannounced in the middle of the night. The trouble was finding which sentiment he’d listen to.
A soft sigh left my lips. The adrenaline of a potential emergency finally free from my body, I could look him in the eye with a comforting smile. “Alright, Boy Genius, seeing as you’re not in any immediate danger, how about I make you a deal?”
I glance at Cana for a moment. Wordlessly, she hands me a card. I step forward and offer that card to Freed: “If you do find yourself in danger, send a burst of your newfound magic through this card, and we’ll come runnin’. How’s that sound?”
He glanced between the card and me, still a little wary.
“Oh! And as a bonus, send two long pulses through this card, and we’ll take you to visit Fairy Tail’s Archives. Biggest and best library on magic Magnolia has to-”
Freed snatched the card from my fingers before I could blink.
My face broke out into a grin. Atta boy, knew ya had in ya. “Heh, seems we have ourselves a deal. Alrighty then, we’ll let you finish your studying in peace. Goodnight, lil Samurai.”
“What? W-w-wait!”
Both Cana and I turned to him.
“You, you never told me your names. Introducing yourself is only polite, especially if you’re unannounced into someone’s home. N-not to mention inviting them into your own ....”
I rolled my lips tightly to hide my smile. Poor kid's face was blistering red. A sunburnt tomato whose fingers trembled as they clutched the gifted card like a precious artefact. Young Freed really should not be this adorable. Not to mention, I shook myself back to the present, I keep forgetting to frickin’ introduce myself!
“Ah, suppose you gotta point there,” I shrugged, offering him a half-scarred hand. “The name’s Korra. Korra Drachmae, Storm wizard of Fairy Tail. And this,” I motioned to my companion with my other hand. “Is Cana Alberona, our card mage.”
Cana scampered up to offer her hand beside mine. “Nice to meetcha!”
The mint-haired boy martialled his posture as if by muscle memory. My mind floundered when I registered just how solid his handshake was. And how friggin’ soft his hands were! Even for someone so young, there’s no way this kid doesn’t moisturise. Probably got a whole self-care schtick going on and everything. How old is he, anyway? Maybe ten? No, his face is too round sti-
“Freed Justine, at your service. It’s an honour and pleasure to meet you both. They are true guild wizards at my age! I can hardly believe-”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Freed.” I returned in kind. “And don’t you worry, by the time you swing by Fairy Tail, there’ll be plenty more like us, just you wait.”
“Right!” Cana agreed with a grin. “Just wait and see Free-chan!”
Freed started a little bit at the sudden familiarity. But after a moment of thought, he nodded, offering her the first smile I’d seen from him all night. “Perhaps one day I will, Cana-san. Till then, I wish you both goo-”
Crimson light flared from Cana’s pyjama pocket. The little girl was startled, both Freed and I stared in alarm. The young mage fumbled to pull the second card out of her pocket. When she glanced at its face, her eyes widened. “Uh-oh.”
“Cana? What is it?”
The little girl clutched my hand, pressing the alarming card between us. I glanced down. The navy-blue silhouette of what looked like a gingerbread man was dancing frantically on the card's cover. Flaring that same violent red over and over again. Ah, that’s not good. “Shit, right,” I could barely spare a glance away. “Sorry, Freed, but we gotta skedaddle. Keep that card handy. We’ll come running if you need us, okay?”
Sensing the gravity of the situation, the boy nodded.
I returned the gesture and then grabbed Cana by the shoulder. “Brace yourself, lil sis. Are you ready?”
Another nod.
“Right. Three, two, one-!”
A flash of vibrant light, and the night disappeared.
We appeared in a hospital. The moment we arrived, my legs nearly gave out beneath me. A wave of nausea swept over my body and blurred my vision. We must’ve teleported further than I thought. I still clutched little Cana by the shoulders as she stared at the flaring red card between us. The colour burned brighter now, flickering with growing frequency as if desperate with urgency.
“Are we close?” I panted.
“Yes!” Cana clasped one of my scarred hands and took off down the hall. “This way!”
Our bare feet slapped against the floor of every hall we passed. Each of us flicking left and right, checking rooms, looking for the source of our alarm. So many of the rooms were open, with empty beds and empty tables. A pit of dread started curling in my stomach. Is a hospital really supposed to be this quiet? Through one of the rooms I could see a window. Outside, the faintest streaks of dawn were slowly painting the horizon. My mouth ran dry. We can’t have been gone that long, could we? The exertion of powering Cana’s locator spell was sweeping my logic away from me.
Then we heard voices. Loud, alarmed and rising from a room down a dark corridor. Cana and I shared a look. The little girl nodded. Together, we tiptoed towards the sound. Careful to avoid any possibly creaky floorboards as the shouting voices became clearer and clearer from beyond.
“No…” A woman’s soft voice warbled through a cracked door in the dark. “Father….”
Neither Cana nor I could see who was speaking. All that could be seen through the crack in the door was a prone silhouette lying in a hospital bed, covered in limp white cotton. My breath hitched.
“It’s okay, Mama!” A young child interjected. “Pops is right here! See?”
Something wooden twittered and creaked like a canary in the air.
“Dear gods-!” The woman gasped. “What have you-?”
“Impossible!” Another distinctly male voice interjected. “Bickslow, what in the seven hells have you done?!”
Bickslow.
“What happened to your face?!”
“I saved him, Papa!” the little voice - a frighteningly young Bickslow - insisted. “I saved Grandpa! He’s still alive, see?”
My stomach lurched. Gramps. Something locked around my chest. He’s alive?! I couldn’t get my breath back. I shook my head furiously, curling my nails into my palms, but nothing helped. My eyes burned. No, stop it! You know better. Wake up, Korra. I bit my tongue and tasted blood.
Again, that wooden, creaky warbling sounded. Deeper and more gravelly now - I could hear it - something taking on the dimensions of a human voice.
“Saved him? Saved him?!” The woman’s horrified gasps turned into squawks of outrage.
“Have you lost your mind, brat?!” the boy’s father snapped. “You turned your flesh and blood into a hellish puppet!” the man growled. “I told that old geezer not to indulge you with those blasphemous toys-”
“Don’t blame this on my father!” his mother protested.
“But…but he asked me to,” Bickslow’s voice was so quiet I strained to hear it. My eyes watered. I couldn’t breathe.
“Like hell he did!” His mother screamed. “You evil child, robbing my father of a peaceful death so you could have some new toy to play with!”
“No! That’s not what I-!”
“I told you that child was cursed, Nerys,” the father snarled. Something shuffled in the room. “That’s it. I’m calling the council. At this rate, he’s a danger to society.”
“W-what?”
I could feel Cana’s gaze boring into me, waiting for my cue to strike. But I couldn’t move. I could only stand there. Trembling. It was as if the world was swerving beneath me even though I was anchored to the spot. Staring at the covered corpse in that hospital bed. Cold harsh light glaring down, I could almost see the silhouette of…. Still, I could hear young Bickslow’s voice.
“But Papa, I-I saved him. Pops, he-he asked me to ....”
“No…” his mother’s voice was tremulous, unwilling to believe. “No, it’s impossible- how could you do this to my father?!"
“That’s enough!”
I burst through the door without giving my feet the command to move. I could only imagine how stupid I looked. A seven-year-old wizard storming into someone’s hospital room barefoot in my pyjamas. But at that exact moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My chest was heaving. My pulse was pounding. I could hardly hear anyone else’s voice through the thunder of blood in my ears.
“Shut up, both of you!”
Bickslow’s fancy-pants father jolted. A well-dressed lady clutched her pearls in shock—his mother.
“What in the blazes?!”
“Who are you?”
“Enough talking!” I snapped. Baring my teeth, I could barely see through my fury enough to speak. The curtains around the room swirled as if in their own wind current. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that same tall, bespoke-dressed man with a lacrima in hand. It looked like he was going to make a call. With a flick of my wrist, the crystalline device sparked and shattered. “Your son was born with magic. He was trying to help, and this is how you treat him?!”
Bickslow’s father startled at the blatant display of magic. But the few shards of lacrima left in his palm were soon squeezed tight into one fist. He glared at me, then at his son - a young boy clinging to the rail of that hospital bed as if it were his only hope of safe harbor. “That child is not my son-! What he’s done is the work of black magic!”
“You’re out of your mind,” I snarled. “What would an ignorant gnave like you know of dark magic-?”
“He-he looks at us,” his wife stammered. “He looks at us and he knows things, like he’s staring into our souls! Not even a normal wizard could do that, r-right?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nerys. Of course they couldn’t, it’s not natural!” The husband snapped.
With their every word, Bickslow seemed to curl further and further in on himself. He clutched a little wooden figure close to his chest like a child half his age; as if he wanted nothing more than the Black Wizard Zeref to claim him and swallow him whole. I grit my teeth. Fierce, cold winds started leaking in through the open windows. Fluttering through his limp dark hair, dancing across the limp cotton hiding his grandfather’s corpse from him. Curling around my scarring knuckles like wolverine’s claws- One more word out of this man’s mouth and I swear I’ll kill him-!
“-And now, he’s moved your father’s soul into one of those damn puppets he made!”
Okay, that’s it!
In an instant, my feet fly underneath me. Next thing I know I have a fist full of the father’s necktie and have him yanked down to half his height. Teeth bared like a wild animal, I snarled in his face.
“Listen here you fucking ignorant piss-ant,” I hissed. My eyes burn hot with rage. Gale force winds scream around us. Their tendrils tangled my hair and clawed at his clothes. “Anyone not willing to listen to a child in distress has no right to be a parent at all! Do you understand me?”
“Why, I never-!”
I shoved my fist into his throat. The man gagged. Curtains tear from their hinges. Whipping around us in a torrent till even the hospital equipment rattled and shook. Wind howled around my ankles. Sending me surging until the asshole’s back cracked against the wall.
“Save it.” I spat. My teeth nearly grazed his nose. With my knuckles pressed against his collar, my guild mark burns bright in the bleak lacrima lights. “I am the Storm mage of Fairy Tail, and your former son is coming with us. Do I make myself clear?”
“Wha-ack! You are a child!” The older man choked. “What gives you the right-?!”
“We’re both guild wizards!” Cana piped up behind me, squeaking to be heard over the wind. “If a guild wizard sees a deep, er, a de-pen-dent being alone or hurt, we can bring them to our guild”
My snarling lips curl into a grin. “You hear that, old man? You get your wish,” One glance at my expression and the man’s face pales. “You and your wife have lost all privileges to contact Bickslow or request our services. Ever. -Understood?”
Bickslow’s mother let out a broken wail. The sound of jewellery clattering to the hard floor seemed so loud amid the sputtering winds. Windows creak and groan, a sigh of relief from the retreating onslaught. Those eddies of air around my ankles unravel, landing me silently beside her. Even without my grip on his throat, the husband remained plastered against the wall like a dead moth sprawled on display.
“Now, now,” I cooed, every word dripping with icy sympathy. “That doesn't mean Bickslow can’t reach out to you,” If he so chooses…. I pressed a hand against the woman’s perfectly coiffed hair. “But considering how you two treated him just now—I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Poor woman sobbed into her hands. My chest ached slightly at the sight, but I held my ground. It’s too little too late. “Now, madam,” I drawled. “Be dear and show us where to collect Bickslow’s things, would you?”
“Please!” She cried. “You can't just take him!"
"If you're going to verbally abuse him, then hell yeah, I can! You're obviously not treating Bickslow like he should be, just because you're an idiot who doesn’t understand magic."
Bickslow stood next to a hospital bed with a sheet covering the prone body. Next to Bickslow was one of his flying dolls, and Bickslow's Seith Mage symbol on his face - a blue stick man - was slowly becoming more prominent.
"Bickslow," I said to him. "Papa. We would like you to join Fairy Tail. Everybody’s all crazy and brave and kind—you’d fit right in with us there. And, if you’d like, we could teach you to control your powers."
The boy kept looking away. "Thanks for offerin’, but my dad is right. Maybe I shouldn't be around people."
"Bickslow," I said quietly. "Look at me."
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No way, I can't control it!"
"Relax," I told him. "And look me in the eyes."
Slowly, he turned to look at me and opened his eyes.
Instantly, I felt his soul grab hold of mine. Invisible tendrils like vines of pure energy clasped the very core of me in a tight fist. Pressure and panic spiked in my chest. One long, deep breath – come on, you’re the anchor here, calm down.
My shoulders slowly unwound. His eyes glowed vibrant emerald green, and I met his gaze evenly. Instinct smoothed to one side as I leaned into the touch of his magic. The air around us began to glow as my magic reached for his own. Our auras blended blue and green as I imagined the core of me embracing that thorny vice grappling around it.
Bickslow’s parents thought his abilities were the work of black magic, but it was perfectly natural, like fresh weeds and flowers sprouting from a fallen log. As the decomposing body crumbles, it gives new plants and animals life, and the cycle continues.
In my mind's eye, I see the corpse beneath that cotton sheet, Bickslow’s grandfather, as if he were carved of wood. Upon death, his soul should have left his body like trees exhale oxygen. But this body was rotting inside, flaking, hollow and splintered. The way a weed shrivels and dies under pesticides flashed in my mind.
My breath caught. If Bickslow’s grandfather had been left to die as he was, no new life would have come from his passing. A natural cycle severed by unnatural means. With that tie severed…the man’s soul would have been trapped here. Whether in his decaying body or the hollow halls of this hospital. I shivered. Neither of which was a fate I wanted to imagine for long.
You were right, Bickslow, I realised. You saved your grandpa’s life.
With that one thought, the room flared vibrant teal and green. The heat of it glowing and burning beneath my skin. As soon as the light appeared, it was gone. What lingered was this sensation of static warmth hovering over the hairs of my arms. Gooseflesh rushed down my back. I shivered, but the warmth persisted.
Bickslow was staring at me, mouth agape. His eyes were still glowing green. I could feel the touch of his magic around my soul. But unlike the thorny vice I’d witnessed before, it was more like gentle vines of ivy braided between my ribs. His eyes fluttered. The vines slowly unravelled. That cold sliver of fear was still holding on by a thread as if it was holding my hand, but mostly staying away.
"Bickslow," I told him, taking his hand in mine. “-Did you hear me?”
His mouth flapped momentarily, unsure what to say. “y-yea…?”
“You saved him. You were right all along,” I squeezed his hand. “Your grandpa’s body can go back to the earth just as he taught you, and now his soul can be free.”
Bickslow’s little wooden figure trilled with glee. The edges were crude and blunt, clearly carved by a child. But somehow, he’d captured the same smile that danced in his Pop’s voice, chittering and dancing above our heads. Pops even went so far as to land in Bickslow’s hair and swivel, knocking the navy blue rats’ nests into his face. Cana and I broke into cackles. And I could have sworn, behind that mess of hair, I saw Bickslow chuckling, too. Just wait, pal, I promised. Soon, you’ll be laughing louder than all the rest.
"Now come on,” I tugged him and Cana towards the door. “Let's go to your house and get your things. Don't worry, Fairy Tail’s going to love you.”
Bickslow’s shoulders shuddered. He clasped a hand to his mouth, muffling how his laughter had turned from endeared to disbelieving. His eyes no longer burning green, I could now see the glimmer of tears he’d held back for so long. I glanced at his parents. Both of them were gobsmacked and pale as ghosts. His mother had glimmering silver tracks down her cheeks. I can’t lie and say that didn’t tug my heart. But I hardened my expression to a scowl.
“Anyone who believes Bickslow deserves to be abused or incarcerated for cleaning up after your sorry asses, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
No one spoke.
“Good. We’ll be leaving now.”
We left his estranged family in shock and tears as we disappeared down the hall. Our footsteps were the only sounds in those dusty corridors. Windows and corners caked in silvery cobwebs. It occurred to me momentarily to try and ask Bickslow what happened here. But every time I looked at him…his eyes were glued to the floor. Their shoulders caved in on themselves while his feet moved on autopilot. I draped an arm across his back and pulled him into my side. Whatever strange happenings were behind this place could wait. For now, our nakama needed us.
Bickslow, Cana and I left the hospital together and stepped into the dawn light. Watching the sun paint pastel pinks and reds over the mountains, I couldn’t help but smile. Even Bickslow’s miniature wooden facsimile—his grandfather's soul—fluttered ahead of us like a moth enamoured by the flame on the horizon.
“Look at’em,” I couldn’t help admiring with a grin. Cana shared in my glee with a giggle. Dawn of a new era, indeed.
The young Seith mage fell to his knees, head in his hands. In an instant, Cana and I knelt by his side.
“Bickslow-chan! Are you alright?”
Poor kid couldn’t decide whether to nod or shake his head. His every breath wracked his frame until he curled in on himself with untold anguish and relief. "Th-thank you…."
“Hey now,” I soothed a hand down his back. “It’s alright. That's what a family is for.”
“Yea!” Cana encouraged. “Wizards look out for each other, just like Nakama.”
The young mage only cried harder. He, too, was rumpled and distraught in unkempt pyjamas. Mavis knows how long he’d stayed in that hospital to look after his grandfather. Something behind my chest deeply ached for him. Never gets any easier…. Bickslow’s trembling hands curled into fists. Knuckles pressed deep into his sockets like he couldn’t bear to think about all he’d seen.
"Then why didn't my dad do that?!"
“He wasn’t nakama,” I promised him softly. “Family don’t start or end with blood, Bickslow, I can promise you that. And don’t forget,” I motioned to the little figurine fluttering worriedly above our heads. “Your grandpa’s soul is still with you - so even if you feel among strangers, you’re never alone.”
At that, Bickslow looked at me. His eyes were vibrant, piercing green as glowing gems. Again, I felt that clench of silent vines around my chest. I fought to keep my breaths steady as he stared at me.
“You’re…you’re not like everyone else, are you?”
Cana beamed, completely undisturbed. “You betcha! Fairy Tail’s unlike nothing you’ve ever seen.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I offered. The tremble in my smile went thankfully unnoticed by the young girl. But Bickslow was too sharp to be fooled. His brows flickered a moment. His grandfather’s figurine danced around his head, not unlike those little Looney-Tunes critters—a huff of amusement. The glow faded from his eyes.
“I don’t wanna go to my parents’ house,” he said. “But Grandpa says he has stuff waiting for me in the loft. Can we go there instead?”
The unease in my chest transmuted to a warm and beaming glow. “Of course we can, kiddo,” I offered him my hand. “Lead the way.”
‘The Loft’ that Bickslow had mentioned wasn’t the attic of his parent's house like I’d first assumed. No, it was a tree house buried in his backyard. Cana and I stood there and gaped at it like a fish out of water.
“Your grandpa lived in a treehouse?!” Cana exclaimed.
“Yeah, he said that’s how our ancestors lived, so that’s how he was gonna live.” Bickslow shrugged. His grandfather’s figurine bobbed vigorously beside him in a motion I *think* was supposed to be a nod.
I blinked. So maybe all the nature metaphors I saw when I connected with Bickslow’s magic weren’t from him, but from his grandfather-? Or, perhaps that’s how magic had been explained to Bickslow by his grandfather? That would make a certain amount of sense. After all, Bickslow’s parents had mentioned his grandfather as the one who encouraged him to make his little figurines. Did he know what Bickslow’s magic would be before he awakened it? Could lineal magic indeed be so copy-pasted that he could be so sure?
I mean, looking at the Dreyars, we have a patriarch who specialises in Gigantification, we have a disowned son who fucks with paper dolls, and then comes Laxus with an affinity for lightning magic, who can assimilate with dragon slayer magic – what the fuck kind of genetics is that?
Not the point, I shook my head. “Okay, what’s your Pops want you to get out of there?”
“Dunno,” Bickslow looked up at his floating figurine. “Guess you could show me, eh, Pops?”
Pops chittered with another vigorous nod, then swirled his way up the tree trunk to the loft window, looking down at us expectantly. Cana and I shared a look.
“Can we come?” Cana asked.
“-Or would you prefer we stayed here?”
“Aw~! But I wanna see the tree house~!”
I pinched my brows with an exasperated smile.
Bickslow just grinned. “Sure, you can, Lil girlie. Come with me!” He leapt to the nearest branch and unfurled a hand-knotted rope ladder to the treehouse. “-You can come too, Korra-chan.”
Ah, Korra-chan. Should’ve figured the common sense one would come around eventually. Wonder how many honorifics I’m gonna get throughout this whole shindig. That’s not even considering some future guild members' propensity for nicknames. Mavis forbid I run into any with a penchant for name puns. Eugh. I knocked on the trunk of the tree and followed after the younger mages.
“Ooh, Korra-nee,” Cana piped up, grappling her way through the trapdoor of the house. “about the hospital-”
My hand paused, mid-reach for the next rung. “What about the hospital?”
“What do you think that light was?”
“You mean when Bickslow used his magic on me?”
“Sorry about that!” he called down from the door.
“Don’t worry about it!” I called back.
“Nah, I could tell the green was his, just like how blue’s your magic colour,” Cana said. “I mean that thing where your eyes go white, and the weather went wonky in that hospital room.”
My stomach dropped. “My, what did what?!”
“Your eyes glowed white,” Cana echoed. “It’s like when you went against Ivan-san that one time. That was scary!”
I swallowed hard. My mouth and throat were painfully dry. “…you’re not scared of me, are you?”
“No,” Cana said. “I wish I was that cool when I get angry. All the grown-ups laugh at me and call me cute.” The little girl huffed. She was finally close enough to Bickslow that he could pull her into the room by her elbows. I followed close behind. What greeted me was Cana’s crossed arms, puffed cheeks and pursed lips—dammit, she is cute, though!
I put up a hand to smother my laugh. “Heh, don’t you worry sister - I’m sure you’ll be plenty scary when you grow up.”
“But I want to be scary now~!”
“Okay, okay,” I bite my lip against a smile. “I’ll be sure to take you seriously when you’re mad. Then people will know you’re super scary—how does that sound?”
“Hmph. Okay….”
“Sounds like a deal,” I chuckled.
“Aha!” Bickslow’s interjection startled us both. “Chickadee! Korra-chan! I found it!”
“My name is Cana!” Cana blustered. But she scrambled to her feet anyway and chased after the sound of Bickslow’s voice.
I shook my head, laughing to myself, and followed soon after. The room the boy had led us to looked to be his grandfather’s bedroom. The space was sparse, with all the furniture being made of either wood or leather. Even the quilt on the bed seemed handmade. Bickslow was standing in front of an open chest at the end of the bed. Pops was dancing around his grandson’s head, flitting about the space and chattering up a storm.
“What’d ya find, Bickslow?” I asked.
“Everything,” he said. His voice pitched low and reverent. I peeked in over his shoulder and- “Pretty much every job Pops ever had been packed in here; his wood carving kit, leather working, he says his black smiths’ tools are smuggled under the bed-”
“Anything that interests you?”
“He says I should take it all just in case I decide to pick up a hobby,” Bickslow huffed with a watery laugh. “Ya know, besides the creepy, scary soul magic.”
“Eh, now, none of that,” I reached out and ruffled the mess of navy-blue hair on his head. This kid couldn’t have been older than Laxus, but even bent over a box, it was a stretch to reach his head. Reminding me once again that I’m still in a seven-year-old body. “Your grandpa showed it to me when we were in the hospital. Your magic is a part of the circle of life. If something comes along to disrupt a soul’s journey, you’re the one to set it right again. You saved Pops’ life, that’s nothing to scoff at.”
Bickslow took a long, deep breath. “Thank you, Korra-chan,” he said. Poor kid couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from his grandfather’s treasure chest. “He says he wants to take the books, too. They’re all about magic and our ancestry, says they might be useful later.”
“Hell yea, they will,” I grinned. With a wave of my hand, I reequipped both selves of books in a flash of blue light. Bickslow startled, jaw slack and staring at the empty space left behind.
“What the-?! How did you-? What kind of magic was that?”
“Reequip Magic,” Cana piped up from behind me. “Makes it fun and easy to store stuff when we want to.”
The boy’s gobsmacked expression ping-ponged between us as if he couldn’t believe what we were saying. “You both can do it?”
“Yeah, we could teach ya if you’re interested.”
“Hell yeah!”
With that, we packed up all of the supplies Bickslow requested from his grandfather’s house and trod our way to the nearest train station. Given all the books and Pops’ hobby equipment, Cana and I maxed out our reequip spaces for now. Bickslow almost felt guilty, but I reassured him it was good practice (which it is), and thus we got on our way. However, spending so much energy teleporting left us both tuckered out by the end. So, we decided to skip the disorienting experience of Bickslow’s first teleportation trip and do things the old-fashioned way. The train ride back to Magnolia took us through dawn, morning, noon and beyond. When we returned to the city proper, the sun had nearly disappeared beneath the western mountains. The trek through town, bypassing the guild hall entirely to return to my cabin, left us dragging our feet and groaning like it was the wee hours of the morning.
To my surprise, Cana offered Bickslow her room to sleep in for the night. He tried to protest, but I quickly covered for her and told her we’d still be up longer. Poor kid didn’t put up much of a fight after that. He just wanted to find a flat surface and collapse immediately. As soon as he and Pops petered out behind the guest room door, I took Cana’s hand and led her to my space upstairs. No one from the guest rooms could see us, and so long as we didn’t stomp about like hooligans, no one would hear us, either.
We sat together at the top of the stairs, where I pulled her into my side with a kiss on the head. “Thanks for your help today, sis,” I finally said. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Cana huffed, hiding her blushing cheeks in my shoulder.
My brows pinched. “Ya alright, sweetie?”
She nodded.
I worried my lip, deep in thought for a moment. Something had been gnawing at the back of my head for a little while now. “Cana…how did you know that thing about guild wizards being able to adopt kids on the spot like that?”
The little girl whimpered slightly. Her arms came around my waist lightly, but I could still feel them shaking. Trepidations started slowly burrowing a hole in the pit of my stomach. “Master Makarov used a rule like that so I wouldn’t be alone after Okasan—”
“He did? But he wouldn’t have to if he—”
Cana shook her head vigorously. Her shoulders shuddered as she crunched herself even closer to my ribs. The penny dropped an instant later.
“The Master—does he…?”
Again, the little girl shook her head. —I pulled her into my arms instantly. I lifted her into my lap so she’d be eclipsed in my embrace, secure and as warm as she could be. We’d been in our pyjamas all day, yet the poor girl was shivering like she’d been exposed to the world.
I suppose it makes sense now. Makarov likely used that clause about guilds being able to take custody of young wizards to keep Cana from ending up in an orphanage. I don’t know much about her mother, Cornelia, but there is a distinct possibility she was a part of Fairy Tail before Cana was born. Even if that weren’t the case, Makarov likely still would have intervened to keep Cana where she wanted to be. And seeing the kind of place that Juvia was living in when we found her – I can’t help but be grateful Cana never got to experience a life like that. And that we got Juvia out of that unfair system with those cruel little bastards as soon as we did. (Seriously, I’ve struck gold so far with these Fairy Tail kiddos, Juvia’s peers at the orphanage were absolute little shits).
“Korra-nee can do anything.”
“Cana….”
“You stopped the bandits from hurting Levy or those jerks from hurting Juvia,” she said. “You helped Freed when he was scared, and you stopped stuck-up grownups that were yelling at Bickslow,” When she finally looked up at me, her indigo eyes were glimmering and wide, her lashes nearly overwhelmed with tears. “What can I do?”
“We did those things. Together.”
“But—”
“No buts, sweetheart,” I wiped those tears away as gently as possible. “Cause we’re a team, remember? You are essential, and don’t let no one tell you different – not even yourself. Ya hear me?”
After a moment, Cana reluctantly nodded.
I sighed. Maybe my words didn’t sink in now, but that won’t stop me from believing in her until she does. I kissed her forehead. “Come along, sis. You can stay with me tonight.”
“Really?”
“Really-really,” I smiled. Scooping her into my arms with a grunt, I jostle her in jest. “But you better not take advantage now, yaw hear? Can’t have the other kiddos thinking I’m picking favourites.”
“But I am your favourite.”
I gasped. If I’d had my arms free, one would have clasped my chest in mock affront. “Blasphemy! I love all you fairy munchkins equally, thank you very much!”
“Oh yeah~?” Oh great, now she was getting into it, too. “What about Laxus then, huh?”
“Huh? What about Laxus?”
Cana opened her mouth, hesitated, and then shrugged. “I dunno. It’s something Macao-san and Enno-san joke about all the time.” She said, wide-eyed and clueless. “There’s always a lot of giggling when they talk about stuff like that.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes, smiling or not. “Of course,” Oh, for crimeny’s sake… “Silly grown-ups.”
Cana giggled. “Yeah, super silly.”
A few hours later, when the sun finally broached the horizon, we awoke not to the peaceful morning we had been hoping for but instead to the panicked screaming of poor little Juvia howling to the heavens about some “stranger in Cana-chan’s room”. We could hear Bickslow protesting loudly, stammering and trying to explain. I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned.
“We have a bunch of explaining to do, don’t we?”
“Y~yup.”