While Fairy Tail of Earthland was busy assisting in the great migration effort in Edolas, the Earthland world itself seemed to have fallen into a rare period of peace.
Perhaps fate truly worked in such ways—that unless certain conditions were met, certain events would never occur.
Without the "Shinigami Grade Schooler," there would be no string of murders.
Without Fairy Tail, the world's adventures and passions seemed to halt.
—Earthland, the Magic Council.
Yajima and Org stood side by side, chatting idly, both savoring the long-awaited calm. To them, this felt like true life.
Not like Fairy Tail—where today they'd smash a Dark Guild, tomorrow fight a demon, and the day after uncover some lost super-ancient ruin.
Even the strongest of hearts couldn't handle such constant upheaval!
"If only the world could stay like this forever," Org murmured, sipping his hot tea. His aged features softened in relief, touched by the serenity.
"How could the young ever restrain their vitality?" Yajima also took a sip, warmth spreading through his body. He gazed up at the blue sky, clouds drifting. The heavens were eternal, unchanged through the ages.
How could youth suppress the fire of their restless spirit?
"Speaking of which, that one hasn't appeared for a long time. Fairy Tail itself has also been quiet for more than half a year—their core members practically vanished." Org hinted, disguising his real purpose with small talk.
Though the Council had been enjoying peace, it was too much peace. It felt unnatural. Like a dream.
Yajima shook his head, his once-relaxed brows knitting again. His voice grew heavy:
"I don't know what has happened. I am but an old man. Beyond speaking a few words here in the Council chamber, I cannot involve myself in greater matters.
And besides, I am not a member of Fairy Tail."
"I see." Org did not doubt him. Among the Council's elders, they knew each other's roots and character. Yajima would not lie about such things. Whatever else he was, he was still a Councillor.
Even if his loyalties leaned elsewhere, he still sat in this seat—and he would think of the Council's welfare.
The two sat in silence, staring at the rippling surface of their teacups, the air between them thick with awkwardness.
At last, Org broke it:
"You are the elder here, closer to his era, and know more than most. Why do you think he chose to join the Council?"
Org did not name him, but Yajima knew exactly who he meant.
Yajima thought for a while, then shook his head. "I cannot say. He is a man of four hundred years past. Who can claim to know his true thoughts?"
"If it were Zeref, that would be simple—the Accursed Black Wizard only longs for rest. But him? I cannot know. No one can."
"He lived alone, distant from the world. Call him reclusive, yet it seemed he wished to blend into society. To avoid harming the world, he withdrew from it—surely that marks him as a good man. And yet, he remained unmoved through history's great wars and demonic scourges.
Cold. So very cold. A complicated man."
Yajima sighed. Like Makarov, he judged Paipai to be an extremely cold and detached person. But unlike Makarov, Yajima believed that coldness was irreversible—or at least, not in the short term.
It was the coldness of four centuries' accumulation.
"Perhaps he is waiting for something. Perhaps he seeks to complete some task." Yajima could only speculate. Such contradictions of character and behavior must hide some deeper cause.
Only by uncovering that cause and resolving it could Paipai ever become the man they wished him to be.
"Do you think… maybe he simply doesn't want to be forgotten?" Org ventured boldly. He remembered how often Paipai fretted at being forgotten.
If he had endured four centuries in a constant cycle of being remembered and then forgotten, then his strange personality might finally make sense.
Combine that with the timing of his few recorded appearances—each coinciding with when he was remembered—and Org's theory felt compelling.
"…Perhaps." Yajima considered, then nodded. But he quickly added:
"Yet we cannot rule out other possibilities. The records of his activity may only capture the times when he happened to be remembered. Perhaps he has always been active—only unseen. Now that the world has stabilized, and people can retain memories of him, those 'special' times appear."
He gave this as a rather extreme example.
"…I'll keep that in mind," Org said humbly. He did not assume his hypothesis to be true. In complicated matters, more theories meant more hope.
The silence returned. Neither knew what else to say.
At last, Org rose. "I'll take my leave."
"Mm. I shall return as well." Yajima hopped down from his seat, hands clasped behind his back, and walked away.
"Bad news, honored sirs! The Etherion Array—its readings are strange, something…" Before they could leave, a frog-like intelligent species sprinted into the chamber, panting heavily as it shouted.
The two elders instantly froze mid-step, then rushed toward the Etherion Control Room with surprising vigor for their age.
Inside, they found the other Councillors already gathered, faces grim as they studied the readings. When Yajima entered, most eyes turned toward him.
He blinked in confusion—but then understood.
The stellar projection was enlarged. Upon the image of the moon, several moving black dots had appeared. Yajima's expression darkened at once.
Life signs on the moon.
This was not good news for Earthland, a world bound to magic.
At the very least, when humanity moved toward the moon, they would face resistance—and possibly even counter-invasion from the moon itself.
Zooming further in, until the faces of the black shapes were visible, Yajima fell silent. His heart only grew heavier.
"This is worse than mere life on the moon," he thought bitterly. "Why must it always be them? Fairy Tail can never remain quiet anywhere."
The other Councillors clearly thought the same. Their eyes all turned to Yajima, awaiting his reaction.
"Ahem. In that case, let Yajima go speak with Fairy Tail. Learn what is happening there. And while he's at it, send regards to the two current Wizard Saints of the Ten. What say you?"
Before Yajima could answer, Org spoke, handing the task to him—and at the same time, easing the suspicion that would otherwise crush Yajima under every Councillor's gaze. Without this, Yajima might not even last his term before being ousted.
"Agreed."
"No objection."
"Sounds fine."
The chamber voiced no dissent. But as always, reality had its own ideas.
Before the Council could send for Fairy Tail, Fairy Tail came knocking first.