The townsfolk of Magnolia were an odd bunch. They dressed in clothes that looked like they belonged in a historical play – tunics, cloaks, leather jerkins, an utter lack of the sleek, functional hero costumes or even the casual street wear he was accustomed to. Their initial reactions to his explosive arrival had ranged from wide-eyed shock to outright fear, but when Katsuki, with a monumental effort to leash his explosive temper, actually started asking for directions – his version of "nicely" still laced with an undercurrent of barely suppressed aggression – their fear often morphed into a wary curiosity.
"A job?" A portly baker, his apron dusted with flour, had scratched his balding head, his eyes wide. "Strong lad like you? Most folks needing work, or… adventure… they head to Fairy Tail."
"Fairy Tail?" Katsuki had practically spat the name, the sheer ridiculousness of it grating on his nerves. "What in the seven hells is a 'Fairy Tail'?"
The baker had just shrugged, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "It's the guild, son. The mages' guild. Loudest, rowdiest, strongest bunch in Fiore, they say. Always looking for capable hands, if you can stomach the chaos."
Every inquiry yielded the same answer. The blacksmith, his face smudged with soot, pointed a calloused thumb down a bustling street. "Fairy Tail, end of the road. Can't miss it. Usually hear it before ya see it." An old woman selling strange, brightly colored fruits from a cart cackled, "Fairy Tail! Aye, they'll find work for a fiery spirit like yours, boy. Or you'll find trouble. One or the t'other."
Mages' guild. The term snagged in his mind. Magic. He'd dismissed the notion earlier, but the persistent, almost reverent way the townsfolk spoke of this 'Fairy Tail' suggested it was something more than just a quaint local club. It was clearly a significant institution here. And if it meant work, a way to earn coin – because he sure as hell didn't have any of this world's currency – then he'd swallow his disdain for the ridiculous name. For now.
The directions, pieced together from a series of gestures and hesitant explanations, led him through winding streets paved with cobblestones worn smooth by time and countless feet. The buildings were a haphazard collection of architectural styles, timber-framed houses leaning precariously against sturdier stone structures. The air hummed with a life utterly different from the ordered, technologically advanced society he knew. It was messier, more vibrant, and undeniably…strange. He passed stalls selling bizarre trinkets, food that smelled both enticing and alien, and saw people performing feats that bordered on the impossible – a man juggling flames, a woman making flowers bloom in her hands with a whispered word. He scowled at these displays, a knot of unease tightening in his gut. This place was weirder than he'd initially thought.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of navigating the confusing layout of Magnolia, he found it. The building designated as 'Fairy Tail' was… imposing, in its own chaotic way. It was a large, sprawling structure, primarily wooden, with a vaguely European castle-like design, complete with turrets and a massive, arched doorway. It looked like it had weathered a few too many brawls, with sections of the wall looking newer than others, and a general air of boisterous energy practically radiating from its windows, even from the outside. The sound the blacksmith had mentioned was now clearly audible: a cacophony of shouts, laughter, the clang of tankards, and the occasional CRASH that sounded suspiciously like furniture breaking.
His lip curled. It sounded like a damn madhouse.
He stood before the enormous double doors for a moment, his crimson eyes narrowed. This was it. The place everyone pointed him to. A place full of 'mages.' He didn't know what that entailed, not really, but if they offered work, he'd take it. He wasn't here to make friends or join their stupid club. He needed resources. He needed information. And he needed to figure out how to get the hell back home.
Taking a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever idiocy lay within, Katsuki shoved the heavy doors inward.
The scene that greeted him was utter, unadulterated chaos. The interior was vast, a cavernous hall filled with long wooden tables and benches, most of which were occupied by a raucous, colorful assortment of individuals. People were drinking, eating, arm-wrestling, shouting across the room, and in one corner, a small group seemed to be engaged in a full-blown, if surprisingly good-natured, brawl, sending chairs flying and fists connecting with loud, meaty thuds. The air was thick with the smell of ale, food, sweat, and that same faint, unidentifiable scent he'd noticed earlier, now stronger, more pronounced – the scent of… magic.
His entrance, framed by the now open doorway, caused a momentary lull in the nearest tables. Heads turned, conversations paused. He ignored them, his gaze sweeping the room, searching for someone, anyone, who looked like they were in charge. His patience, already worn thin by the day's events, was rapidly approaching its breaking point.
He strode further into the hall, his boots thudding on the wooden floorboards, his expression a thundercloud of impatience. He spotted a bar running along one side of the room, and behind it, a woman with long, white hair was calmly polishing a glass, seemingly unfazed by the pandemonium around her. She looked… vaguely responsible.
Katsuki marched directly towards her, his path taking him dangerously close to the ongoing brawl. A stray chair sailed through the air, and he casually batted it aside with the back of his hand, the wood cracking on impact, without breaking stride. The brawlers paused, looking at him with surprised, slightly drunken expressions. He shot them a glare that could curdle milk, and they, surprisingly, seemed to think better of resuming their fight in his immediate vicinity.
He slammed his hands down on the bar, the wood groaning in protest. The white-haired woman looked up, her calm blue eyes meeting his fiery red ones. She had an almost serene air about her, a stark contrast to the bedlam surrounding them.
"Oi!" Katsuki's voice cut through the din, sharp and demanding. "Where the hell do I sign up? I need a damn job!"