X821
Ultear Milkovich. Her name is something I have heard ever since I was born. My mother saw to that.
At first I didn't know who she was, just her name. I also knew she made my mother curl up in a ball and cry, her pink hair shielding her face from me. Needless to say, I hated her. Who was this woman that brought so much sadness to my family? When I told my mother this, she was shocked and her emerald eyes held something akin to revulsion. Then her eyes softened and she held me softly and whispered in my ear that I would know more than her name later on.
I was still not satisfied and probed further. But all my mother would tell me was that Ultear was someone she loved very dearly.
This was enough for me. It was then that my hatred of her shattered and something akin to awe and love began to grow for this mysterious person that my mother loved so much.
As I grew older, more and more stories of Ultear were fed into me, as soon as I could properly understand them. Ultear became not just the mysterious shadow figure that my mother loved but someone real, with a personality and feelings. I loved her like a second mother and an older sister rolled into one.
But even then, I never really understood the deep hidden layers of Ultear; the secrets piled on so thick that finding the truth seemed like finding a single teardrop in a murky ocean. Even my mother, who knew her so well, could never find the reasons behind Ultear.
It was only until the summer I turned 17 that Ultear's secrets and past began to resurface, to press against us, harder and harder, trying to crush us all.
Underneath the shade of the oak tree, tiny figures laugh and dart around each other, like tiny fish. Their bright clothes and hair fly everywhere, creating bursts of colour in the picture as the gentle breeze caresses their faces and limbs. Nearby, a gaggle of adults watch fondly over the children, talking about the latest jobs they have taken on and the enemies they have faced. They smile and reminisce about the old days, when they themselves ran around, full of energy and ignorant of hardship, just like their children. A woman with blonde hair hugs a snoozing salmon haired man, as their daughter looks after the younger kids in the family.
A bell rings out in thundering tolls, and the children stop playing, staring with wonderment as a red haired woman and a blue haired tattooed man walk down the pathways holding hands and grinning. Quietly, the children whisper among themselves as the adults come up and greet the man and the woman.
"It's the 15th anniversary, isn't it?"
"Yeah, after Fairy Tail and-"
"You know Jellal and Erza have decided to-"
"It'll be so cool! Crime Sorciere and-"
The murmurs weaved through the children like an invisible snake. They watch and wait as the man and woman walk to the shade of the oak tree, their faces glowing with happiness. Tensely, the children wait for their announcement. The woman's voice rings out loud and clear.
"Today is a special day, everyone. The year, as most of you know, is X821. It has been exactly 15 years since we last gathered here underneath this same oak tree, which holds so many memories, to celebrate our guilds together. I am also told by Natsu that this tree also holds all the embarrassing photos taken of certain guild members."
The salmon-haired man, who had been sleeping so peacefully just before, let out a sudden whoop of "Erza!" much to the laughter of everybody else, especially the blonde woman who was sitting next to him. Erza smiled and continued on with her speech.
"Thank you Natsu. It was under this oak tree that Fairy Tail and Crime Sorciere made their pact, a friendship that will last eternity. I ask you to join me, friends, to go and celebrate the anniversary of our twin guilds, Fairy Tail and Crime Sorciere!"
Above the laughter and raucous goodwill, a figure sits, watching the jubilee intensely, her features crumpled up like paper, frowning with both frustration and puzzlement. She sits and rocks on the tree branch, not caring whether she falls or not. Nobody notices her past all of the leaves.
She mutters to herself.
"She's not here. The elders said she would be here. But she isn't. Oh no no no. This will not do at all. She has to be here."
The figure repeats this to herself, again and again and again, like a little mad chant. She pulls at her hair, her face on the verge of tears.
Then her back straightens and her face is smooth and pretty again. She smiles, but it is more like a crack on her face. Her chanting stops and she pulls the hood of her cloak over her head again.
"Ultear Milkovich, you haven't beaten me yet, you whipped dog."
[Prologue/End]