The Fairy Tail Guild, in its chaotic, noisy glory on a lazy afternoon – that is to say, its natural state of existence – was my improvised, frankly rather insalubrious stage. Seated at one of the solid wooden tables, which had probably witnessed more spilt ale and broken bones than a Viking pirate pub with self-control issues, I was surrounded by the cheerful, comforting, occasionally deafening sound of animated conversations (shouts), loud, contagious laughter (hyena cackles), and the constant, almost hypnotic clinking of tankards from my… shall we say, eccentric guildmates.
In my hands rested a newly acquired treasure, an instrument that, surprisingly, spoke to my aeons-old soul and didn't just gather dust like most of my impulsive acquisitions: a magic lute, made of a dark, suspiciously lustrous noble wood, with carvings that seemed to tell tales of forgotten times or perhaps were just scratches from some particularly artistic cat.
I had found it, or rather, it had practically leapt out at me, last week, during one of my rare, usually disastrous strolls through the charming, surprise-filled, alarmingly poorly-paved streets of Magnolia. The small, dusty, probably haunted magic music shop, conveniently hidden in a forgotten alleyway smelling of regret and boiled cabbage, had drawn me in like a rusty magnet to a valuable, shiny piece of metal. And when my cynical, weary eyes landed on that lute, solitary, majestic, and surprisingly reasonably priced in the dusty, cobweb-strewn window, I knew, with a certainty that transcended logic and probably involved some form of benign demonic possession, that it urgently needed to be mine.
Music, after all, despite my best efforts to remain a creature of pure, cold logic, had always been an intrinsic, essential, occasionally embarrassing part of who I am, a golden, frequently off-key thread woven through my countless, varied, generally tragicomic existences.
I had been, to my eternal embarrassment and Eos's delight, a successful singer acclaimed by multitudes in distant worlds with dreadful musical taste, an intergalactic idol with a questionable wardrobe who piloted giant mechas between shows and probably caused more destruction than the aliens I was supposedly fighting, and even, in a particularly bleak, penniless phase, a humble, mysterious, terribly out-of-tune travelling bard, telling stories and legends through simple, painfully repetitive melodies in smoky taverns, usually in exchange for a bowl of cold soup and the privilege of not being stoned. Music, whether one liked it or not, was a universal language my ancient soul understood deeply, even if my talents were… intermittent.
As my nimble, experienced, surprisingly delicate fingers for someone who had dismembered demons with her bare hands, tuned each of the lute strings with almost reverent care and a concentration I rarely dedicated to anything not involving the possibility of death or a good snack, a soft, bittersweet, dangerously sentimental wave of nostalgia enveloped me like a warm, damp, probably flea-infested cloak.
I remembered, with a clarity that was both welcome and profoundly irritating, the countless, uncountable songs I had already played, some masterpieces, others not so much. The melodies that had been born in my fingers in countless, forgotten worlds, some sublime, others that would make a banshee have a fit of hiccups.
The stories I had told, the myths I had created, the emotions I had awakened, and, occasionally, the riots I had incited, through the simple, powerful, frequently misunderstood magic of music. As soon as the last, stubborn string vibrated in an almost acceptable harmony, I began to gently strum the strings with my eyes closed, trying to look profound and mysterious, letting the melody flow from me, through me, as if awakening an ancient, dormant, deeply vital, probably very embarrassing part of my soul.
Natsu, our resident Salamander, with his bubblegum-pink hair that defied all laws of physics and good taste, and an insatiable appetite that could probably empty a small country of its food resources, who was, as usual, sitting at a nearby table devouring a piece of roasted chicken the size of my head with almost wild enthusiasm and a total lack of good manners, stopped abruptly mid-juicy bite and stared at me with eyes wide with pure, genuine, almost childlike surprise, a few bits of chicken still hanging from his greasy lips like unfortunate decorations.
"Oi, Azra'il! What's that noise? Crikey! Do… do you know how to play that thingy? I thought you only knew how to tell people off and make that weird food that glows in the dark!" he asked, his mouth full, with a disarming sincerity and a total lack of filter that were, simultaneously, irritating and strangely captivating.
I smiled, a small, amused, perhaps slightly enigmatic smile, laden with a superiority he probably wouldn't notice. "Yes, Natsu, my dear, hungry connoisseur of undercooked poultry. To your utter, absolute surprise, and to the probable despair of your eardrums, I do know how to play a little. It's one of my many, varied hidden talents. Along with the ability to predict the weather with 50% accuracy and find lost socks in alternate dimensions," I replied with a modesty I rarely, if ever, employed, and which probably sounded entirely false. And then, without hesitation, without overthinking the possible consequences for others' hearing, and just feeling the music pulse in my veins like an old, rediscovered friend, I began to play the opening chords of the chosen song on the magic lute, a melody that was at once sad, strong, and strangely familiar, a song that spoke of loneliness, pain, and the courage to connect.
Soon, even with my eyes closed and absorbed in my own melancholic performance, I could feel the magnetic, unmistakable, slightly menacing presence of Mirajane Strauss approaching, drawn by the melody like a curious moth to a dangerously unstable candle flame.
She, who despite all her tough, calculating mage facade and predominantly black wardrobe, had, I knew, a secret, deep, almost shameful passion for music, stood silently beside me, her blue eyes, normally so full of cold malice and calculated defiance, now surprisingly wide and shining with genuine, almost childlike admiration as she absorbed every note, every chord, every nuance of the melody I produced with the magic lute.
"Azra'il… I… I hadn't the faintest, most remote idea you played so… so beautifully! It's… it's almost magical!" she said at last, her voice, normally as sweet as poisoned honey or as cold as ice, now surprisingly soft, devoid of any trace of teasing, and full of a sincerity that was almost disconcerting.
"Besides just strumming a few strings and producing minimally harmonious noises, Mirajane, I also, to your surprise and possible delight, quite enjoy singing," I replied with a slow, perhaps slightly smug smile, opening my eyes and meeting her gaze, observing with growing interest, secret amusement the palpable animation, genuine curiosity beginning to grow on her normally so controlled, enigmatic face, which usually wore an expression of 'I'm secretly planning your painful death'.
A mischievous impulse, a small, delightful spark of my more… manipulative, playful personality, led me to move a little closer to her, almost breaking her personal space, tilting my head suggestively and whispering deliberately, calculatingly seductively, my voice little more than a warm, teasing breath in her delicate ear: "Would you, by any chance of fate or out of pure, simple morbid curiosity, like me to sing a small, special, perhaps slightly inappropriate song just for you, Mira, my dear soft-hearted demoness?"
The look of genuine surprise, almost absolute shock, she shot me in response, followed by an adorable, entirely unexpected, deeply satisfying blush spreading like fire across her normally pale, perfect cheeks, made me smile with mischievous joy, secret satisfaction, almost palpable triumph.
Mirajane Strauss, the great, fearsome, manipulative Satan Soul of the Fairy Tail Guild, the undisputed queen of subtle provocations, calculated flirtation, psychological intimidation, was visibly, adorably, utterly flushed and, to my total, absolute, glorious surprise, seemed to stammer a little, like an innocent schoolgirl, as she tried to formulate a coherent reply.
Something that, I was sure, was not at all common for her, who usually took the initiative with everyone, without the slightest hesitation, remorse, or consideration for others' feelings. It seemed I, humble, mysterious Azra'il, had found a small but significant chink in the impenetrable armour of the demon-powered mage. Interesting. Very, very interesting.
Erza, my little, jealous scarlet warrior, who was observing the entire interaction from the other side of the table with a facial expression that was a peculiar, hilarious mixture of genuine interest, veiled pride, palpable suspicion, and something dangerously resembling… pure, crystalline jealousy. I could almost physically feel the wave of negative energy emanating from her, a slight but noticeable, entirely understandable twinge of annoyance, possessiveness.
I could see clearly in her eye, now a little narrower, darker, fixed with an almost predatory intensity on Mirajane, that she was painfully aware of my ability to sing, vividly remembering, probably with a mixture of affection and resentment, the soft, comforting, entirely exclusive song I had sung to her on that cold, lonely, frightening night in the cave, so long ago. That song, with its ancient melody, its forgotten lyrics, had been solely, uniquely for her. And now, here I was, in front of the entire guild, offering a song to her greatest, most hated rival.
Oh, the irony. My lips curved into a slightly wider, slightly more amused, perhaps slightly more guilty smile as I saw the adorably transparent, entirely predictable, hilariously jealous reaction of the two girls. Ah, sweet, delicious youthful drama. So predictable in its twists. And so incredibly fun to observe, occasionally, to instigate.
With a deliberately coy, charming, perhaps slightly overtly provocative glance in Erza's direction – a glance that only served to intensify her adorable scowl, the dangerously jealous glint in her eye, and, probably, her blood pressure – I decided, out of pure, crystalline mischief, a sadistic desire for amusement, perhaps to test the limits of both their patience, to focus again on the now visibly nervous, eager, utterly caught-off-guard Mirajane.
I took a deep breath, feeling the ancient magic of music begin to flow through me like an old, powerful river, and began to strum the first, melancholic chords of the chosen song on the magic lute, a melody that was at once sad, strong, strangely familiar. I let the music flow freely in my voice, which began soft, almost a whisper, gaining strength, passion, raw, palpable emotion with each verse I sang, whilst my eyes remained fixed, hypnotically, perhaps a little intimidatingly, on hers:
"You tell me, that you're used to it all
The loneliness, so you push me away, but the truth is you long to hide what's held
Deep within your heart..."
The words, laden with an unexpected empathy, a silent understanding, a vulnerability I rarely, if ever, displayed, danced lazily in the guild air, enveloping us in an intimate bubble of sound and feeling. And I could see, with a clarity that surprised me, the expression on Mirajane's normally so controlled, enigmatic face subtly change, her carefully, painfully constructed defences over the years beginning to waver, to crack, to yield under the weight of the melody, the lyrics that seemed to speak directly to her wounded, lonely soul.
She was enchanted, almost mesmerised, completely lost in the music, the lyrics, perhaps, a little in my eyes. And I, in turn, let myself be carried by the current of the song, by the raw, overflowing emotion of the melody, feeling the invisible, fragile, yet incredibly powerful connection that music, only music, could create between us, between all equally wounded, lonely souls in search of understanding.
"Rage, and fear, and pain, and sorrow
Through all the nights, they torment you so
But you bear it all alone..."
As I sang, my eyes still fixed on hers, as if we were alone in the universe, I realised, with a pang of something akin to compassion, that this song wasn't just a simple, pretty musical performance to impress or provoke. It was much more than that. It was a silent invitation, a sincere offer of mutual understanding, an almost desperate plea for her, and perhaps for myself, to open her heart, to allow someone, anyone, to see beyond the tall, cold, thorny walls each of us, for different, painful reasons, had built over time, experiences to protect ourselves from the inevitable cruelty, the searing pain of the world.
"Let me hear it, that voice you try so very hard to conceal
Let me see then, the true hidden colours of your heart..."
The melancholic, bittersweet notes of the magic lute resonated with crystalline clarity through the now surprisingly silent, attentive guildhall, and I could feel the raw, palpable, almost suffocating emotion in the air, like a storm about to break.
Mirajane's gaze was completely fixed on me, her large, expressive blue eyes, normally so full of cold malice, calculated defiance, or dangerous seduction, now shining with a complex, moving mixture of genuine surprise, exposed vulnerability, hesitant, fragile, almost childlike joy. And I wanted, with an intensity that frightened me, for her to know, through that ancient song, my trembling voice, that she was not, in any way, alone in her pain, her loneliness, her inner demons. That the heavy burden she carried could, yes, be shared. That there was someone there, at that very moment, who perhaps, just perhaps, could truly understand her.
"I can bear this all alone, that's what you say
Always say it to yourself, with a wounded sort of pride, but then truly, again
And yet again you spend, countless waking nights
Your lonely nights trying to deceive yourself, to convince, isn't that right?
But I, still, I long to see you..."
Hearing the verses of the song, which spoke so openly of her own, carefully guarded loneliness, her internal battles, the facade of strength she presented to the world, but which also contained an implicit promise of acceptance, a desire for connection, Erza, who watched the whole scene with silent intensity, an unreadable expression, couldn't help a slight, almost imperceptible, perhaps a little sad smile appear on her lips. Although the familiar, uncomfortable feeling of jealousy still lingered, bubbling in her confused heart, a tiny but stubborn seed of understanding, perhaps even reluctant empathy, seemed to have finally been planted.
There I was, Azra'il, the enigmatic, sarcastic, emotionally distant creature, in front of all the guild members, sharing something so intrinsically mine, so personal, so vulnerable. And that, somehow strangely, utterly unexpectedly, made her want to draw even closer to me, made her want to better understand the disconcerting complexity, the hidden layers, the fascinating contradictions that were me, Azra'il Weiss. And, perhaps, even forgive Mirajane a little for being the object of my musical attention. Perhaps.
"I long to see your truest, deepest self of all
Let me see then, so clearly, the face you try so very hard to hide..."
The music, in its pure, transformative essence, had become much more than just notes and words. It had transformed into an intimate, silent, deeply significant conversation between myself and Mirajane, a mirror reflecting our own pains, longings, a subtle but incredibly powerful reminder that all of us, without the slightest exception, have our secret, silent struggles, our undeclared internal battles, our unspoken pains we carry like heavy burdens, our untold stories yearning to be heard.
And at the end of the song, looking deeply into Mirajane Strauss's now tear-filled, incredibly vulnerable, surprisingly open eyes, I saw, with a clarity that took my breath away, that she was more than ready, perhaps for the first time in many, many years, to finally tear down her walls, to lower her guard, to open her wounded heart and allow someone, perhaps even me, to enter and see the true, beautiful soul she tried so hard to hide from the world.
"Let me listen, with patience, to all that you need to say, I will truly hear
Let me draw near, to stay right beside your heart..."
When the last, vibrant notes of the magic lute finally dissipated softly in the emotion-laden air, a deep, dense, almost reverent silence fell over the entire Fairy Tail guildhall for a brief, intense, almost eternal moment. It was as if everyone present, even the noisiest, most insensitive, were holding their breath, absorbing the raw essence, the palpable vulnerability, the bittersweet beauty of the song.
Then, like a growing, unstoppable wave, warm, enthusiastic, genuinely moved applause began to erupt from every corner of the hall, filling the air with a sound of approval, admiration. And I smiled, a genuine, slightly tired, but deeply satisfied smile, knowing, with a quiet, absolute certainty, that music had, once again, as always, done its subtle, powerful work of touching souls, connecting hearts, breaking the invisible barriers that separate us.
Mirajane, still standing beside me, was absolutely radiant, her blue eyes shining intensely with unshed tears of an emotion she couldn't name, and a smile so luminous, so pure, so disarmed it transformed her into an almost angelic vision. And I, to my utter, absolute surprise, perhaps a little embarrassment, couldn't help the warm, strangely comforting sensation that, somehow bizarrely, improbably, utterly unexpectedly, perhaps a little dangerously, we two had grown even closer that day, had taken a small but incredibly significant step towards something that could, who knows, with much effort, perhaps some therapy, become a true, lasting friendship. Or, at the very least, a much more interesting, much more complex rivalry with an absolutely impeccable soundtrack.
She moved a little closer to me, almost shyly, her previously mischievous, teasing smile now tinged with a vulnerability, a softness that made her surprisingly… human. And beautiful. It reflected the pure, crystalline joy, an almost childlike emotion visibly overflowing from her normally so well-guarded heart, protected by layers of sarcasm, indifference.
"Azra'il… your song… your words… you… you truly, genuinely touched me deeply," she said, her voice, normally as sweet as poisoned honey or as cold, cutting as ice, now surprisingly soft, low, a little hoarse, incredibly sincere, almost a whisper only I could hear. "I… I hadn't the faintest, most remote idea you had such an incredible, powerful, so… moving talent, capable of seeing so deeply into someone's soul." Her blue eyes, now clear, bright, were fixed on mine with an intensity that made me uncomfortable, yet, strangely… connected.
"Thank you for your sincerity, Mirajane," I replied with an honesty that, to my surprise, mirrored hers, feeling an unexpected, entirely inappropriate warmth rise to my face, which was profoundly irritating, entirely beyond my control, something Eos, with her sadistic precision, would certainly register for future, endless teasing. I didn't usually blush. Not at all. Or at least, not for such… trivial reasons. "Music, as you could perceive, has always been something… important to me. A way of expressing things simple words cannot. And I, when I'm in a particular mood, when the audience seems minimally receptive, not prone to throwing rotten tomatoes, quite enjoy sharing it with… friends."
The word, 'friends', still sounded a little strange, a little forced, perhaps even a little hypocritical on my cynical, ancient lips, but, surprisingly, to my growing discomfort, it wasn't entirely, completely unpleasant to say this time. Perhaps I was getting old, dangerously sentimental. Or perhaps it was just the side effect of the guild's cheap ale. Probably the ale.
"You shouldn't just be an ordinary adventuring mage with a history of causing trouble, breaking things, Azra'il," she commented with a serious tone, surprising conviction, a renewed glint of admiration, perhaps a little envy in her blue eyes. "You should be a famous, acclaimed artist, a renowned, respected singer throughout the kingdom of Fiore, the entire continent, perhaps even the whole world! You have a divine gift! A true, undeniable gift from the gods of music! It would be a terrible, unforgivable waste not to use it to its full potential!" Her enthusiasm, her faith in my supposed talent were almost… touching. And entirely, completely, absolutely exaggerated, of course. But, still, pleasant to hear.
"Oi, Mirajane, my newest, most enthusiastic number one fan," I said, with a mischievous smile, a sudden, brilliant, perhaps slightly dangerous idea dawning in my mind, as I drew her attention back to me, seizing the moment as the general animation, noise of the Guild began to calm, return to its usual, familiar chaos. "Since you, apparently, enjoyed my modest, improvised, entirely free musical performance so much, if you truly wish, someday, when we have the time, patience, I could, who knows, teach you a few basic chords on the lute. Or perhaps on the guitar, if you prefer something a little more… popular, less prone to evoking medieval bards, ancient lullabies. It would be fun, don't you think? A small, harmless, perhaps even therapeutic distraction from our usual, wearing attempts to outdo each other, annoy each other, occasionally, kill each other in training or guild brawls."
She was visibly, utterly, adorably surprised by my unexpected, for her, probably unbelievable offer. Her large, expressive blue eyes widened in a delightful mixture of genuine astonishment, absolute disbelief, almost childlike, contagious joy. "You… you really, truly would do that for me, Azra'il? Really? Even after everything?" she asked, the initial hesitation, suspicion in her voice rapidly dissipating, like morning mist under the sun, replaced by growing excitement, almost palpable hope.
"Of course I would! Why wouldn't I?" I replied with a casual, nonchalant shrug, but with a sincere, perhaps even gentle smile forming on my face. I was starting to like the idea. "Music, as I've said before, will probably say many times more, is something we should share with those who genuinely appreciate its beauty, its power, and I, sincerely, against my better cynical judgement, would love to teach you a few little tricks, secrets. Besides," I added with a conspiratorial wink, a tone of complicity, "you already have the most important thing of all: an excellent, keen musical ear, a naturally passionate soul, a voice that, with a little training, fewer battle cries, could charm even the grumpiest of demons. I am absolutely, unshakeably certain you would learn very, very quickly."
Mirajane blushed slightly, a glint of pure, crystalline happiness, mixed with an adorable, entirely unexpected shyness, illuminating her normally so controlled, enigmatic, occasionally frightening countenance. "I… I would love that more than anything, Azra'il! That would be absolutely, utterly, completely incredible! I've always, since I was little, wanted to learn to play a real musical instrument!" Her excitement was genuine, palpable, incredibly contagious, and I saw, with surprising clarity, a pang of something akin to… affection, that she was truly, deeply, sincerely happy with my unexpected proposal.
"Right! Then it's settled, sealed with a musical promise!" I said, genuinely pleased to see her spontaneous animation, to have, perhaps, found a new, unexpected form of connection, who knows, even friendship with her, my eternal, now possibly future duet partner. "We can start our private, probably chaotic music lessons as soon as you're free, I'm not too busy saving the world from some imminent cosmic threat or getting our dear Erza out of some monumental scrape she'll inevitably get into. And who knows, my dear, talented musical demoness-in-training," I added with a smile full of possibilities, "perhaps one day, in the not-too-distant future, you too will take to this improvised stage, sing alongside me in some epic, memorable, entirely improvised duet right here, in the Fairy Tail Guild! I can already imagine the applause. And the encores."
Whilst Mirajane and I, much to everyone's surprise, especially our own, chatted excitedly about our future, promising, probably very noisy music lessons, our dreams of guild musical domination, I could feel, almost physically, like an uncomfortable pressure on my back, the weight of Erza's intense, piercing, now openly discontented gaze upon me. She was considerably quieter than usual, sitting at her table with her arms crossed, an unreadable, somewhat sulky expression on her face, a curious mixture of genuine pride in my performance, reluctant admiration for my apparent new friendship with her rival, a slight but undeniable, almost palpable discontent.
I knew, with an almost instinctive certainty, a familiarity bordering on worrying, that yes, she was happy for me, for my opening up, connecting, sharing my talent with others. But I also perceived, with uncomfortable clarity, a pang of something dangerously resembling… guilt or perhaps just sadistic amusement, that the excessive amount of attention, the apparent, sudden camaraderie I was dedicating to her greatest, most hated rival bothered her in some deep, visceral, utterly irrational way that she herself, with all her strength, intelligence, probably couldn't yet understand or admit. Jealousy. Such a human, primary, confusing emotion. And so incredibly amusing to observe from the gallery.
With an internal sigh that was a mixture of resignation, amusement, a pang of something I refused to identify as affection, I decided, before the situation escalated into a duel of withering glares or, worse still, a real, destructive brawl between the two teenage titans, to approach Erza, leaving Mirajane to her daydreams about our future, promising music lessons, our epic duets, her probable rock star career.
"Oi, stubborn little redhead with an expression that could curdle milk," I asked in a low voice, with a tone I hoped was reassuring, leaning slightly towards her, offering my best 'don't worry, I'm not swapping you for an albino singing demoness' smile. "Everything alright with you? You seemed a bit… distant, pensive, perhaps a tiny bit sulky throughout my acclaimed, internationally recognised singing. Any problem with my tuning? Or my choice of repertoire?"
"I… I'm fine, Azra'il. Perfectly fine," she replied, her voice a little lower, a little less convinced, considerably more sulky than usual. I noticed a small, almost imperceptible tremor in her voice, her eyes avoiding mine for an instant, fixing on some random spot on the wall. Ah, teenage jealousy. So transparent. And so adorable. "I was just… I was just thinking, with great admiration, of course, how much you truly, genuinely shine like a star when you sing, play. It's… it's as if you transform into someone else. Someone even more incredible, more… luminous." There was a touching sincerity, a genuine admiration in her words that, once again, touched me unexpectedly, made me feel an irritating warmth in my chest.
"Why, Erza, my little, modest, occasionally insecure scarlet warrior, you also shine, very much so, in your own particular, unique, impressive, usually much noisier, destructive way, full of metallic sparks, battle cries," I said, with a genuine smile, trying to divert the excessive attention, the embarrassing focus from myself, simultaneously dispel any dark, jealous cloud that might be stubbornly forming over her proud, red head.
"Always remember, with all the pride, all the conviction you deserve to have, that you are, without the slightest, most remote shadow of a doubt, one of the bravest, strongest, most determined, I dare say, most genuinely inspiring mages I've ever had the dubious pleasure, or perhaps the unexpected, occasionally amusing misfortune, of knowing since I left Raven's End, joined this guild of lunatics. Your indomitable strength that seems to know no bounds, your unshakeable courage in the face of danger, your impressive, almost superhuman ability to eat an entire strawberry cake in under five minutes without choking are truly, absolutely inspiring to us all. And you, my dear, stubborn Erza," I added with a conspiratorial wink, a smile I hoped was encouraging, not just irritating, "look absolutely smashing, incredibly intimidating, totally badass in armour. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
She smiled, a small, slightly hesitant smile at first, which gradually became more genuine, more relaxed, perhaps even a little smug, though there was still a stubborn shadow of something dangerously resembling jealousy, or perhaps just a perfectly understandable youthful insecurity in her eye. "Thank you for the kind words, Azra'il. And regarding the strawberry cake part, you're absolutely right, I'm unbeatable. But, honestly, this music thing… it's not the same. You… you have this natural gift, this innate, almost palpable magic in your voice, in your fingers when you play. The music simply, without the slightest apparent effort, flows from you as if it were an essential, vital, inseparable part of your own, mysterious essence. It's… it's different. And it's incredible."
"Perhaps one day, who knows, when you're feeling particularly brave, musically inspired, perhaps a little tipsy, you too will take to this improvised stage, sing along with me, Erza," I suggested with a mischievous wink, a smile full of ulterior motives, a tone that was half challenge, half invitation. "I am absolutely certain it would be an utterly epic, memorable performance, one that would make history in the guild, one that, very probably, would make good old Master Makarov weep with pure, crystalline emotion. Or perhaps with pure, absolute auditory horror. Either way, my dear, it would be an utterly, completely unforgettable experience, don't you think?"
Erza laughed, a genuine, sonorous, somewhat relieved laugh this time, her expression finally softening completely, losing that uncomfortable tension that bothered me so much. "I don't know if I'm exactly ready for such a huge, public, potentially humiliating challenge like that, Azra'il. I think, for now, for the safety of everyone's eardrums, I'll leave the music, singing, stardom part to you, who were clearly born for it, have much more practice. But I, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, would love, more than anything, to hear you sing, play more often. Whenever you want. Whenever you feel like it." Her gaze was sincere, direct, full of a pure, genuine admiration that warmed my cynical heart in a dangerous, utterly unexpected way.
We both lost ourselves in a quiet, comfortable, surprisingly normal conversation after that, the strange tension, veiled jealousy, subtle discomfort that had formed between us slowly dissipating, like morning mist under the first, warm rays of sun.
Around us, the Fairy Tail Guild, as always, continued to vibrate with the lively, chaotic, noisy, utterly unique energy of the other members, the atmosphere, despite all the occasional madness, destruction, was undeniably full of a genuine camaraderie, a palpable loyalty, a boisterous companionship, a joy for life that was almost tangible, incredibly contagious. Even for an ancient, cynical, weary soul with serious relationship issues like mine.
After a considerable time of small talk, some laughter, continued, fascinating observation of the exotic local guild fauna (which included a mage trying to teach a fish to dance, another animatedly conversing with a chair), to my slight, growing annoyance – for I was already seriously considering the possibility of a strategic nap – I noticed that the infamous dynamic duo of mass destruction, generalised chaos, insatiable appetite, Natsu Dragneel, his inseparable, irritating, noisy, occasionally useful flying blue cat, Happy, were approaching our table again.
They came with that unmistakable glint of pure, unbridled, usually very dangerous excitement in their eyes, which was never a good sign for the guild's structural integrity, or my peace of mind. Natsu, a huge, probably stolen (or very conveniently "found") piece of greasy chicken in hand, as usual, a grin stretching from ear to ear, displaying more teeth than recommended by the dental association, exclaimed with his mouth full, an enthusiasm so contagious it almost knocked me off my chair with the sheer force of his voice:
"Oi, Azra'il! That was absolutely, utterly, completely MENTAL! You were amazing! Ace! You've got to play more! Sing more! That was sensational! Much, much better than… well, than any other singing I've ever heard around here, for sure!" He seemed genuinely, deeply impressed. Which, coming from Natsu, who was usually only impressed by fire, food, was a miracle in itself, a weighty compliment.
"Yeah, yeah! Much more, Azra'il! Aye, Sir!" Happy agreed with his characteristic enthusiasm, his shrill "Aye, Sirs!" flying through the air like small, irritating, winged blue mosquitoes, his large round eyes shining with newfound admiration. "I never knew you sang like that! I want to hear more songs! Lots, lots more! You're so good at it! So talented! What other amazing song do you know how to sing?" He seemed genuinely wonderstruck, like a child who has just discovered a new kind of magic sweet.
"Hmm, seems I've made a new fan with surprisingly discerning musical taste," I replied, with an amused smile, a complicit glance at Erza, Mirajane, who watched the scene with a mixture of amusement, resignation. They knew that once Natsu, Happy got something into their heads, it would be difficult to dissuade them. "Perhaps I might, indeed, play something else for you, my number one enthusiasts, potential personal roadies. But what song shall I sing this time, eh? Any suggestions a little more… sophisticated, less prone to causing a generalised brawl from my select, discerning, now surprisingly attentive audience?"
As I prepared to, apparently, play once more for that noisy, chaotic, surprisingly appreciative audience, feeling an unexpected lightness, perhaps even a little… joy in my ancient heart, I looked at Mirajane, Erza. The two strongest mages of the new generation, my newest, most unexpected friends, or at least, companions in confusion, were sitting together, their differences, rivalries momentarily forgotten, their expressions of genuine encouragement, almost childlike anticipation inspiring me in a way I couldn't explain.
The magic lute, which seemed to vibrate with an energy of its own in my hands, was again tuned, ready. And with a soft, experienced, perhaps slightly more confident touch of my fingers, I began to weave a new melody into the air, a song a little softer, more introspective, perhaps a little more hopeful this time, one that spoke, simply, directly, about the people we love in silence, with all their flaws, about the precious, bittersweet, unforgettable memories that bind us, define us through time, space, countless trials, about the indomitable, invisible strength we find in the deep, unbreakable bonds of friendship, family, even if that family is a bunch of noisy misfits with a worrying tendency towards destruction.
The first, delicate chords of the new song echoed through the Fairy Tail Guild, which, to my surprise, had grown a little quieter, more attentive. And I felt, with a clarity that frightened me, warmed me at the same time, the subtle, powerful energy of the music slowly spread through the room, like an invisible wave of warmth, comfort, pure, crystalline emotion, creating an invisible but undeniably palpable bond between all of us there, sharing that simple, unexpected moment.
The song, this time, flowed from my soul with surprising ease, sincerity, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment, this exact audience, to finally be born, find its way in the world. And as I sang, eyes closed, heart unexpectedly open, I realised that every carefully chosen word, every delicately woven note, every subtle inflection of my voice, resonated with the deep, universal, inescapable truth of our shared human experiences, our silent sufferings, our purest joys, the indestructible, precious bonds we had created, were still actively creating, over time, hardships, many, many noisy adventures.
"On the paths we tread, with uncertain steps, stumbles and falls,
The dreams we plant, in open hearts, with hope and flaws,
With every loose, loud laugh, and every bitter, heartfelt tear,
We become, day by day, stronger and more united, soul with soul woven, colourful and clear…"
The music continued, soft, powerful, with a disarming simplicity, leading everyone present, including myself, to a place of deep, serene reflection, a quiet, nostalgic joy, a silent but profoundly significant communion. Natsu and Happy, to my utter, absolute surprise, amusement, stopped jumping, shouting like lunatics, began to sway their heads gently to the slow, hypnotic rhythm of the melody, with almost dreamy, surprisingly peaceful expressions on their normally so hyperactive faces.
Erza and Mirajane, my two, unexpected companions in music, in life, watched me with a moist glint, a soft, genuine smile in their eyes, and I felt, with a clarity that frightened me, warmed me in a way I hadn't known possible, that something important, significant, perhaps even permanent had changed between us three on that simple, unexpected day. And, looking around the previously so noisy, chaotic hall, I saw that the entire Guild, all those eccentric, noisy, destructive, loyal mages with surprisingly enormous hearts, seemed to unite in a silent chorus of voices, smiles, a few, discreet, perhaps slightly embarrassed tears of pure, crystalline emotion.
Music, once again, as always, had worked its subtle, powerful magic. And, perhaps, just perhaps, I, the cynical, the distant, the ancient entity with relationship issues, had finally found, in that unlikely, noisy, utterly insane place, something dangerously resembling a home. And, even more frightening, a true, somewhat dysfunctional family. What an absolutely terrifying thought. And, to my surprise, wonderfully, incredibly, utterly comforting.
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[author note]-----------------------------------
Note 1: Hi everyone! I just wanted to share a little something about this chapter's title, which was a bit tricky to translate from my native language, Portuguese.
In Portuguese, the original title was "Toque com seu coração". The word "Toque" is really interesting because it has a beautiful double meaning here. It means both "to touch" (like touching someone's heart emotionally) and "to play" (as in playing a musical instrument). This duality worked perfectly for the chapter, as Azra'il "touches" Mirajane's heart with her music, and at the same time, the music is made by the "touch" of the instrument's strings.
When I tried to translate it literally, I ended up with either "Touch with your heart" or "Play with your heart". In English, neither "touch" nor "play" quite carries that same poetic, dual musical meaning. So, I decided to change the title to "A Song from the Heart". I felt this new title still captured the emotional core of the scene. The idea that the music comes from a deep, sincere place and is meant to touch the listener's soul. Even if some of the original wordplay was lost in translation. I just thought it was a neat linguistic detail to share!
Note 2: For the first song that Azra'il sings, I used the Japanese version of the song "Lend Me Your Voice" from the anime Belle as a reference. I've tried to translate and adapt it myself; I know there's an official English version, but I preferred the lyrics of the Japanese one. As for the second song Azra'il sang, those are just some random verses I wrote whilst listening to medieval fantasy music.
[author note]------------------------------