After the festival was over, the vibrant, chaotic pulse of Fairy Tail returned.
The tournament had crowned a new champion in Mirajane, and the entire city of Magnolia had a new favorite sporting event. From the next day onwards, the guild continued to work normally.
"Normally," of course, was a relative term.
The morning air was filled with the familiar, comforting sounds of Natsu and Gray arguing over who got the last pastry, Erza sternly ordering them to be quiet while she ate her strawberry cake, and Lucy frantically counting her jewels, already dreading the end-of-the-month rent.
Levy was buried in a book at a corner table, Gajeel sitting opposite her, crunching on a steel girder. Juvia was hiding behind a pillar, her eyes heart-shaped, mapping Gray's every move.
"This," Makarov sighed from his perch on the bar, sipping his morning ale, "is the sound of peace."
The doors were open, the sun was shining, and everyone was having fun in the guild.
The day wore on, and the afternoon lull gave way to the evening's raucous energy. As everyone was partying, the brawls becoming more widespread, the music getting louder, and the drinks flowing, the main doors of the guild hall swung open.
The noise, which had been at a deafening 10, dropped to 0.
Instantly.
Natsu, whose fist was wreathed in flame and cocked back to punch Elfman, froze mid-swing. Gray, who was in the middle of a dynamic stripping motion, was left standing awkwardly in his boxers. Erza, who had been about to slam both their heads together, paused, her armored hands hovering.
Every single eye in the guild hall—from Laxus in his high-backed booth to Macao at the card table—swiveled to the entrance.
Blake Corvus walked in. This alone was not enough to stop the guild. But it was who he was with, and how they were walking.
He was walking with Cana, hand-in-hand.
Their fingers were laced together, a simple, undeniable gesture that spoke volumes. Blake was a tower of quiet confidence, his black cloak billowing.
Cana, beside him, was not her usual, drunken, chaotic self. She was sober, her brown hair brushed, and she was looking at their joined hands with a small, shy, and utterly immovable smile. They both finally decided to share their relationship status with their guild members.
Seeing them both walk like that, everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at them.
There was pin drop silence, you could hear the drip... drip... drip... of a leaky beer tap.
Lucy's jaw hit the floor. "They... they're...?"
Natsu just looked confused. "Why is Cana holding his hand?"
"No, you idiot!" Gray hissed. "They're together!"
"Together? Like... on a team?"
"NO! Like together-together!"
Blake, feeling the weight of a hundred gazes, stopped in the center of the hall. He looked at Cana, who gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He looked out at his stunned, silent family.
Then, upon seeing everyone looking at him, he cleared his throat. The sound was like a thunderclap in the quiet.
"Ahem. So..."
His voice actually seemed to stick in his throat. This, he thought, was more terrifying than facing Veyra'kul.
"...I just wanted to let everyone know," he continued, finding his composure. "Officially. Cana and I... are together."
A single pin dropped.
Then, Lisanna let out a high-pitched, joyous "EEEEEE!"
And the guild exploded.
It was a roar of "FINALLY!" and "IT'S ABOUT TIME!" and "I KNEW IT!"
The entire guild swarmed them, a massive, joyous mob. Erza was the first, pulling them both into a bone-crushing, armored hug. "It is a logical and strong pairing! I approve!"
"Way to go, Blake!" Gray yelled, slapping him on the back.
Blake, laughing and overwhelmed, raised his free hand. "Okay! Okay! Thank you, everyone! And to celebrate..." He looked at Cana, who was beaming, her face rosy. He grinned. "All the drinks are on me!"
The second cheer was so loud it rattled the windows and made the foundation of the newly-built hall tremble. This was the news they were waiting for.
"FREE DRINKS!"
"BLAKE IS THE BEST!"
"TO THE NEW COUPLE!"
Then he sat near the bar table, finally extricating himself from the mob. Mira, who had been watching the whole scene with a placid smile, was already polishing a glass.
He asks Mira for a drink. "The strongest you have. I have a feeling I'm going to need it."
"Cana," Blake said, looking at his girlfriend, who was glowing with happiness.
"Don't worry about me," she said, tapping the small card-deck at her hip. A full, dark-wood barrel of her favorite ale materialized on the bar with a solid thud. "I came prepared."
Mira giggled, her sweet, silver voice like wind chimes. "Congratulations, Blake-san. I'm so happy for you both." She placed a large, frosty tankard in front of him. She was about to say something, her eyes soft, her smile a little... fixed. "I always knew you two had a special... connection. I was just—"
"BLAKE! YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN!"
Macao and Wakaba, mugs in hand, came and interrupted her, slamming their drinks on the bar and throwing their arms around Blake's massive shoulders.
Mira, her sentence cut off, her hand still raised, just... stopped. Her smile wavered for a fraction of a second. She now had a sad expression on her face, a fleeting, deep melancholy that she immediately masked. She turned away, busying herself with the taps. "Oh dear, we're almost out of the strawberry ale..."
Blake didn't see her expression; he was too busy being assaulted by the two veterans.
But Cana saw her.
Cana, sober and sharp, caught the micro-expression. She saw the light go out of Mira's eyes for just a second, the way her shoulders tensed, the way she forced the cheerful, guild-hostess mask back into place.
Cana knew that face. It was a mirror. It was the same face that she used to have for years—the face of a girl who was desperately in love with a man she believed she could never have, a man who saw her as just a friend, a drinking buddy. It was the look of longing.
Oh... Cana thought, her own happiness suddenly complicated by a pang of empathy. Mira... you too?
Cana took a sip of her ale, her eyes narrowing. She had won. But she suddenly, and very clearly, realized there had been another person in the race. She didn't comment on that, for now. She'd file it away. Today was for celebrating.
Macao said, his voice loud. "You finally did it! You roped in the Ace's daughter! You're a braver man than I am, kid!"
"We're proud of you!" Wakaba added, lighting a cigar. "Although, be careful."
Blake, in the middle of a triumphant drink, paused. "Careful about what?" he asked, confused. "The party's just starting."
Macao and Wakaba exchanged a dark, meaningful look.
"Not the party, kid," Macao said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Him."
"Him who?"
"You..." Wakaba said, looking around as if the walls had ears, "you just agreed to be in a relationship with GILDARTS'S DAUGHTER."
The name hung in the air like a death sentence.
"Think about it, Blake," Macao pressed, his face pale. "If he knows that you've... 'claimed' his little princess... he won't be chasing you for fun anymore. He will be chasing you to the depths of hell. With intent to kill."
The scenes of the night when he became an S-class mage flashed in Blake's mind. The memory of the "one-sided beating." The pure, unadulterated terror.
Blake scoffs. "Who's afraid of him? I can handle Gildarts. I can handle him easily."
Then they both nod, as if understanding. "Right. Right," Macao said, a little too quickly. "Yeah, you're S-Class. You can handle him. Of course."
"But can we ask you a question?" Wakaba asked, his face a perfect, neutral mask.
Blake says, ''Yeah, shoot it.''
"Why are you sweating so much?"
Blake froze. A single, large bead of sweat was, in fact, rolling down his temple, defying the cool air of the guild hall.
He immediately started fanning the collar of his shirt, his expression one of forced, casual annoyance.
"It's just very hot in here," Blake said, his voice a little too high. "Is it just me? Mira, are the new coolers working? Are the windows open? Let the air flow in, people! It's stifling!"
Then Macao and Wakaba looked at each other, held it for one second, and then exploded in raucous, wheezing laughter.
"AHAHAA! HE'S TERRIFIED!" Macao howled, pounding the bar.
"HE'S SWEATING! 'IT'S HOT IN HERE!'" Wakaba mimicked, tears rolling down his face. "OH, BLAKE IS SCREWED! HE'S SO, SO SCREWED!"
Blake's face turned a deep crimson, a mixture of embarrassment and genuine anger. "It's just warm!"
"Whatever you say man!" Macao said, wiping his eyes. After they finished laughing, they again congratulated Blake, patting him on the back. "Seriously, kid. We're happy for you. But..."
"Be careful," Wakaba finished, his tone deadly serious for a split second, before he burst into laughter again.
Blake just grumbled, burying his face in his tankard, as the entire bar around him joined in the joke.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the frozen, northernmost reaches of the continent...
Gildarts Clive was standing on the peak of a desolate mountain. He had just punched an ancient, 1,000-foot-tall ice demon back into a glacier. He stood, his cloak whipping in the freezing wind, admiring his work.
And then, he felt it.
A sudden, inexplicable, and violent anger rising in him. It wasn't his own.
He felt, with an absolute and unshakeable certainty, that someone, somewhere, was touching his stuff.
He felt like he should beat someone. Really, really bad.
"Huh," he grunted, clenching his fist. "Must be the altitude."
He turned, cracked his neck, and walked off to find the next monster on his 100-Year-Quest list, completely unaware that his "little princess" was in the arms of one he considered a rogue.