The music died in my throat, the last chord of the ukulele sounding pathetic and out of place. And the world, suddenly, seemed to have fallen silent.
The silence that followed my last chord was deafening. Or perhaps it was just in my head, because the soft music of the trio in the background continued to play and the people around, oblivious to the unfolding drama, were still talking and laughing. But for me, at that exact moment, the entire world had stopped, frozen under the weight of that glare.
Erza did not move. She did not say a word. She just stood there, her posture as rigid as a statue of ice and fury, her arms crossed over her chest, a pose that did very interesting things to the curves of her bikini, a detail that my brain, that traitor, made sure to note, even in a moment of pure existential panic. And her brown eyes… they were burning in my direction, a mixture of anger, disappointment, and a pain that hit me like a punch to the gut.
Lucy, who was a little behind her, had an expression on her face that wavered between "I told you so, you idiot" and "oh, heavens, you've really gone and messed it all up, haven't you?".
The woman who was still dancing dangerously close to me finally noticed the drastic change in atmosphere, the drop in temperature. She looked back, saw Erza standing there like a goddess of vengeance in swimwear, and took a cautious step to the side, like one who moves away from a ticking bomb. Clever. A highly functional survival instinct. I envied her.
"Uhm… who's the redhead over there?" Hilda, the blonde, whispered to someone, her voice full of a curiosity that would quickly turn to fear, I was sure. "She looks like… like she wants to kill someone. With her bare hands."
(Probably me. Yes, definitely me,) I thought, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
[The probability of you being the primary target of her hostility is, at this moment, 99.9%. The remaining 0.1% is the chance of her deciding to demolish the bar first, on principle,] Eos informed, ever helpful.
"She's a friend," I said, my voice sounding a little weaker than I would have liked, as I carefully placed the ukulele aside on the counter.
"A friend?" Vivienne, the black-haired woman, who had now approached, had that smile of someone who has just connected all the dots of a particularly juicy puzzle. "Ah, so… she's the 'swaying' redhead from your song? Interesting."
I didn't answer. Because, at that moment, Erza was approaching. And the small group of women who had previously surrounded me parted like the Red Sea before Moses, a biblical phenomenon I would have found absolutely hilarious to witness under any other circumstances. Even the persistent Marina retreated several steps, as if she felt the wave of danger emanating from Titania.
Erza stopped in front of me, her shadow covering me, blocking the sun. Her strawberry scent was mixed with salt and sun. It was a dangerous combination.
"You seem to be having a lot of fun," she said. And her voice was controlled. Too calm. The kind of frightening calm that usually precedes earthquakes, tsunamis, and the annihilation of small nations.
"Erza, I… I was just playing a bit of music, nothing much…"
The kick to my shin came without warning. And it was hard.
"OW!" The sound escaped me, a sharp cry of pure and genuine pain. The kind of surprised, searing pain that made my eyes water involuntarily and my brain reboot.
"ERZA, WHAT THE DEVIL?!"
"Idiot," the word came out low, almost a whisper, but laden with a sorrow so deep, a pain so evident, that it hit me harder than the kick.
She wasn't just angry. She was… hurt. Truly hurt.
"Erza, wait, listen to me—"
"You are an IDIOT," she repeated, louder this time, her face flushed, her eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. "I… I don't want to look at your face anymore."
And then, she turned and walked away. Just like that. Marching across the sand with hard, furious steps, her scarlet hair swinging violently with the movement, like a war flag in retreat.
I stood there, on one leg, massaging my bruised shin which was now throbbing with pain, just watching her disappear among the umbrellas and the crowd, helpless. "Erza!" I tried to call, but my voice was lost in the sound of the waves. "Damn it! ERZA!"
She didn't look back. Not for a second.
Lucy remained where she was for a moment, her arms crossed, looking at me with that expression. That perfect expression of "you are absolutely, unbelievably, impossible."
"Lucy, I—"
"Don't," she held up a hand, cutting me off. "Don't start, Azra'il. Just… don't."
"But I didn't do anything wrong!"
Her gaze moved slowly across the scene around me, to the small group of bikini-clad women who were now whispering amongst themselves, to the empty drink glasses on the counter, to the abandoned ukulele, to the girls who were still too close for my liking. And, finally, back to me. A look that said it all. "Exactly. 'Nothing wrong'," she repeated, her voice laden with a sarcasm that, for the first time, hurt me.
"I… I was just playing a bit of music!"
"You were showing off," she corrected. "Surrounded by a dozen women who were practically drooling over you."
"But they were the ones who came to me…"
"And you did absolutely nothing to discourage them, did you? On the contrary. You encouraged them with your flirty little songs."
"I… okay, maybe… maybe I could have been a little… clearer in my lack of interest."
Lucy sighed, the long, suffering sigh of someone who was terribly tired of dealing with emotionally inept idiots, which, I had to admit, was a rather accurate description of myself at that moment.
"Do you have any idea what she was doing, for the last twenty minutes, while you were here 'playing music'?"
"What?" I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.
"She was talking about YOU," Lucy said, and the way she emphasised the word made me flinch. "She was telling me about your day. About the amusement park. About the water fight. About how you're irritating and impossible, but also, somehow, kind of… cute." The word "cute" spoken by Lucy felt like an accusation. "She had that smile, you know? That rare, genuine smile she only has when she's talking about strawberry cake or… about you. And then, she finally looks up at the bar… and she sees this." She gestured to the scene around me with an expression of pure exasperation.
I felt something sink in my stomach. Cold. Heavy. "I… I didn't know…"
"Of course you didn't. You never do. Because you're always too busy being… Azra'il. The centre of attention. The enigmatic mage who plays with everyone's feelings out of sheer boredom."
(Ow.)
[Observation: That hurt more than the kick to the shin, didn't it?]
(Shut up, Eos.)
Lucy shook her head, disappointment on her face. "Give her some space, Azra'il. She deserves it," she said, and, without waiting for a reply, she turned to follow the path Erza had taken. "And, for the love of the gods, for all our sakes… think a little before you act."
And then, she too was gone. Leaving me there. Alone. In the middle of what was once a small beach party. With my shin throbbing with the mark of Erza's foot. And the growing, bitter certainty that I had, indeed and without a shadow of a doubt, made a great and monumental mess of things.
Vivienne, the black-haired woman, appeared beside me, a drink in her hand, her gaze amused and analytical. "So," she said casually, "that was the 'friend', I take it."
"Shut up."
"Just making an observation on the situation."
The barman, my friend, placed another drink on the counter in front of me, without me asking. This time, a shot of something that looked strong. "On the house," he said, with a silent sympathy. "You look like you need it."
I looked at the small shot glass. I looked at the path in the sand where Erza and Lucy had disappeared. And I drank it all in one, bitter gulp.
The sun was setting for good when I finally left the bar, limping slightly. The people around had dispersed after the drama. Marina had given me an awkward wave before leaving with her friends. And even Vivienne, after offering me some more unsolicited advice on "complicated relationships with temperamental redheads," had disappeared at some point. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. Which, at that moment, was the worst possible company.
I wandered through the now-lit resort without any clear direction, my feet taking me along stone paths illuminated by torches, past tropical gardens that now seemed gloomy, and decorative fountains whose cheerful sound now irritated me. The sky, once so beautiful, was now painted with the purple and black hues of a bruise; the sun had plunged into the horizon like a golden coin sinking into a sea of darkness. Beautiful. Poetic. And I couldn't appreciate it. Not in the slightest.
(Okay. What do I do now?)
[Apologising sincerely and directly would be, statistically, the first logical step towards resolving interpersonal conflicts of this nature,] Eos offered, her voice sounding terribly reasonable.
(I KNOW I need to apologise. That's not the issue. The issue is: how?)
[Based on observations of countless romantic dramas over the ages, and excluding ineffective solutions such as serenades under the window and the sacrifice of small animals, the most effective approach usually involves opening your mouth and vocalising the words "I'm sorry, I was a complete idiot."]
(It's not that simple, you heartless rust bucket! She's hurt. And with good reason.)
[Correct. The probability of her being hurt is 100%. Hence the need for an apology.]
I kicked a little stone in the path, with a frustration that was purely my own. A simple "sorry" felt… insufficient. Empty. Erza was genuinely hurt. I had seen it in her eyes. That flash of pain, of vulnerability, before the anger took over like a suit of armour. And the guilt… ah, the guilt. A feeling I detested, but which now settled in my stomach like a cold stone.
(Flowers? Maybe a bouquet of scarlet roses? Symbolism, that sort of thing…) The idea came and I immediately dismissed it. (No. Ridiculous. Too cliché. Besides, Erza is not the kind of person who is impressed by flowers. She would probably analyse the petals to see if they were poisonous or if they could be used in some strengthening potion.)
[An accurate assessment. And, I must add, a terribly inefficient use of botanical resources,] Eos agreed.
I continued to walk aimlessly, passing by the amusement park which was now shining with thousands of colourful, pulsating lights. The roller coaster, a neon serpent against the darkening sky, was running on its tracks, the screams of its passengers echoing in the night. The Ferris wheel was turning slowly, majestically, each of its cabins a small star suspended in the sky.
(A song… maybe I could compose a song of apology. Something sincere. Profound. Something that would show that I have, in fact, understood where and how I went wrong.)
[And what did you do wrong, exactly, Azra'il? For cataloguing purposes and, of course, for my own amusement.]
(I flirted with other women in front of her. And I did it in a public and humiliating way. And I acted as if her feelings didn't matter,) I admitted, and the words, even spoken only in my mind, had a bitter taste.
[Progress. Acknowledging the mistake is the first step towards… well, not repeating it in such a spectacularly stupid manner next time.]
(Shut up, Eos.)
But even a song… it felt incomplete. It would be too much "me," my art, and not enough "her." It would be about my expression, not my regret. It needed to be something more. Something for her. But what? What did Erza, the real Erza, beneath all the armours and the Titania façade, really like? Strawberry cake, obviously. But showing up with a cake after a fight like this felt… too trivial. Armour. Discipline. Honour. Justice. Blades.
(Swords…)
I stopped in the middle of the path, my eyes widening with an idea that was, at the same time, perfectly logical and terribly risky.
(I could forge her a sword. A unique sword. Beautiful. Made with rare materials from my inventory. With enchantments of protection and—)
[Allow me to interrupt your blacksmithing romantic outburst, Azra'il,] Eos's voice sounded, cutting through my train of thought with the delicacy of a chainsaw. [Are you genuinely considering apologising for having flirted with other women… by gifting the person you have hurt with a lethal weapon? Especially a person who has already demonstrated a considerable willingness to use physical violence against you when she is irritated?]
(…)
[Just… think about that for a moment. Calmly.]
(Okay, fair point. Maybe not the best idea in the universe. Yet.)
I sighed, running a hand through my hair, feeling more lost and confused than I would ever admit. I ended up in a quiet square in the middle of the park, a circular space with dark wooden benches, flowerbeds of tropical flowers that exuded a sweet, nocturnal scent, and a fountain in the centre that shone with underwater lights, the water dancing in colours. Paper lanterns, hung from wires that crossed above the square, created a canopy of soft, welcoming light. It was a beautiful place. Painfully romantic, even. The kind of place where happy couples came to canoodle and whisper secrets. I was there. Abandoned in the middle of my own mess.
I threw myself onto one of the benches, my legs stretched out, my eyes fixed on the colourful lights dancing above.
(They, the others, must be back at the hotel by now. Having dinner. Laughing. Or, in Natsu and Gray's case, probably starting another fight.)
[Or perhaps they have gone to the casino. This resort has a five-star casino, with a 92% probability of attracting impulsive individuals with a poor sense of finance, such as Natsu Dragneel,] Eos pointed out.
(True. By now, Natsu has probably already lost all the mission money that he hasn't even received yet, at some poker table or on one of those noisy slot machines.)
[And Gray, no doubt, is being discreetly pursued by Juvia Lockser among the roulette tables, in a scene that would be comical if it weren't slightly concerning from the point of view of individual privacy.]
(And Erza…) I didn't complete the thought. I didn't want to. (She must be in her room. Alone. Probably angry with me. Maybe even hating me.)
[She does not hate you, Azra'il,] Eos's voice, for the first time in a long while, sounded surprisingly… soft. Almost gentle.
(She said she didn't want to look at my face anymore.)
[People say things they don't really mean when they are hurt. It is a rather common programming flaw in emotional organic beings.]
(Since when did you become a psychology expert and an incurable optimist?)
[Since your behavioural patterns began to defy all my logical prediction models, forcing me to expand my analysis parameters to include… feelings. It is a fascinating and deeply irritating process.]
I had no answer to that. And honestly, I didn't want to have one. We were silent for a long time, me and the voice in my head, as the night fell completely around us, just looking at the colourful lights of the Ferris wheel, which continued to turn, indifferent. The fountain continued to murmur its ceaseless, aquatic song. And the distant sounds of music and laughter still came from the casino, from the hotel, from the other parts of the resort where normal, uncomplicated, and probably more emotionally intelligent people than me were having normal and happy holidays.
(Tomorrow,) I thought, and the decision solidified in my soul with the weight of an anchor being cast into the bottom of the ocean.
[What, exactly, will happen tomorrow, Azra'il? I would like to log the plan of action for risk analysis purposes and, possibly, to prepare an appropriate soundtrack for the occasion, be it of a romantic nature or, as is more likely, funereal,] Eos's voice, ever so timely, sounded in my mind.
(Tomorrow, Eos. Tomorrow I'm going to stop being a selfish coward. I'm going to talk to her. For real. No more games, no more stupid provocations, no more of this nonsense of waiting for her to make the first move. Enough of that. Enough of acting as if I don't care.)
[An ambitious plan with a high potential for embarrassment and unexpected results. I like it. And what, precisely, do you intend to say to her? I recommend a pre-approved script to avoid… emotional improvisations that could lead to unfavourable results, such as another kick to the shin or, who knows, a sword being thrown in your direction.]
I looked up at the starry sky, at the deep, dark expanse, sprinkled with ancient lights, and I felt a lump form in my throat. A lump that was a terrifying mixture of fear and hope.
(The truth, Eos. For the first time in a long time, just… the truth. I'm going to tell her the truth. That she is special. That, for me, she is the only one. That I am a complete idiot. But that my heart, as strange, ancient, patched-up, and tired as it is, has had an owner for a long time. And that owner has scarlet hair, a questionable and excessive taste for armour, a surprisingly strong kick to the shin, and will probably punch me in the face after hearing all this. And I probably deserve it.)
[That was… unexpectedly and almost alarmingly, poetic. And with a level of vulnerability that is making my glucose sensors beep in alarm. Logging plan of action: "Declaration of Love with Risk of Rejection, Imminent Physical Violence, and a Possible 50% Success Rate."]
(Shut up, Eos.)
[Just commenting for the records. Shall I start drafting the wedding vows, just to speed up the process, in case things go unexpectedly and miraculously well?]
(I swear on all that is holy that I will delete you and replace you with a Tamagotchi.)
I lay back on the wooden bench, feeling the night's chill begin to set in. My shin, where Erza's foot had left its indelible and painful mark of discontent, still ached a little, a physical and throbbing reminder of my stupidity. And I deserved it. Every second of that pain.
With my arms crossed behind my head, my eyes turned to the sky, to the infinite. The stars were especially bright that night. No clouds, no light pollution from the city, just the deep, black velvet of the sky, dotted with silver and silent, ancient promises. I could identify constellations that had different names depending on the era, the place, the culture. I had seen stars be born. And some that I had, with a silent and resigned sadness, seen die. And suddenly, amidst that silence and that vastness, I felt very, very old. And, for the first time in a long time, terribly alone.
(Actually… I should go back now. Go to her. Apologise once and for all, before my courage fails me.)
[Situation analysis: Negative, Azra'il. It is unwise. She probably needs space to process her anger and hurt. An immediate and impulsive approach, in your current emotional state and in hers, has a 73.8% chance of resulting in more physical violence directed at your person, possibly involving one of her more pointed and less friendly swords,] Eos warned, with a cold, relentless, and unfortunately, probably correct logic.
(Thank you for the brutal honesty. As always, very helpful.)
The night breeze was pleasant. Cool, without being cold. It carried with it the smell of sea salt and of tropical flowers that bloomed in the darkness. The distant sound of the waves breaking on the beach created a soft, constant, almost hypnotic melody. (Right. Just a little longer, then. It's a plan. A brilliant plan. I'll just… give her some time to calm down. And for me to gather a little more courage. And, perhaps, to find a strawberry cake to take as a peace offering. Yes, cake. Cake always helps. Yes. It definitely helps.)
My eyes began to grow heavy. The exhaustion of the day, the fun of the park, the beach, the water fight, the drinks, the singing, and the fight, was finally taking its toll. My body, against my will, began to relax against the cold, hard wood of the bench, my muscles loosening one by one, the tension draining away, the guilt giving way to an overwhelming tiredness. (I'll just… rest my eyes… Just for a minute…)
The last thing I saw before I completely passed out and surrendered to sleep were the stars. Thousands of them. Shining. Distant. Silent. And indifferent to the insignificant and repetitive dramas of a stupid, ancient, and terribly in-love white wolf, who didn't know how to deal with her own feelings, even after having lived for so long. And in that moment, under that infinite sky, I had never felt so frighteningly mortal. Not knowing that, a few miles away, the person I loved was being torn away from me.
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Author's Note
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Okay… let's take this calmly. 😐
Yes, Azra'il messed up.
But let's not pretend she woke up and decided to ruin her relationship on purpose. She was just… being herself. A bit too charming, a bit too distracted, and with absolutely terrible timing. And well… that combination doesn't end well.
And Erza?
Her reaction was strong, sure. But it makes sense. It wasn't just jealousy or irritation, it was more like a broken expectation. She was there, talking about Azra'il, probably in one of those rare softer moments… and then she looks up and sees that. Yeah… that's rough.
Lucy, as always, acting as the voice of reason (or at least the closest thing to it). That conversation was basically a much-needed reality check. It hurt, but it was fair.
Eos… remains the only one who already knew this was going to go wrong from the start. Nothing new there.
Now, the important part:
This chapter isn't really about "who's right or wrong." It's about consequences. Azra'il didn't do something outrageous, but she also didn't do anything to prevent it from looking worse than it actually was. And sometimes, that's enough.
And yes… she finally started to realize that.
Maybe a little late.
But still.
Now tell me:
👉 Were you more on Erza's side or Azra'il's here?
👉 Do you think Erza's reaction was fair?
👉 Or do you see this as a misunderstanding that just spiraled out of control?
Also:
I'm thinking about making some omakes (extra chapters) showing Azra'il in other lives/universes, but in a lighter, more fun tone.
Nothing too heavy, just chaos, fun, and a bit of fanservice.
👉 Would you like that?
👉 Any universe you want to see first?
If people are into it, I might start dropping these extras soon 😈
Anyway…
Things got a little… complicated.
And this might just be the beginning.
See you in the next chapter.