Author's Note: What am I doing? I have no idea what I'm doing.
That said, I do know what I'm aiming to do. And I do know that this was born out of my recent love for Fairy Tail and practically all its characters and it was an idea I simply could not resist. I can't promise quick updates, but I can promise that I'll try. There will be no OCs, other than maybe an occasional character with a small role.
Now, one thing to note. There's a lot of time travel fics around, so this one is just going to be another time travel fic in a sea of others. Except not really. I'm trying to do something I haven't noticed others doing, and keep the nature of the story the closest I can to the manga. What is it exactly? Read on and see. And do leave feedback, please. I have no idea how I can improve if I don't at least get a few pointers.
If there's anything you want to ask, go right ahead!
Thank you for checking this story out! Have fun! :)
EDIT: Scene added. I was actually intending to throw it in as a flashback in one of the later chapters, but thought it would fit better here.
"Lucy…"
"I'm fine." Though she said that, the tear rolling down her cheek indicated otherwise. Her companion's hand shot out, retracting slightly before it made contact with her skin, then pulled back entirely.
"It's not too late," he said, voice quiet, regretful.
Lucy shook her head firmly, wiping the last traces of tears from her cheeks. She smiled, but anybody would be able to tell it was an anguished, rather than a reassuring action. "Getting cold feet now? You're the last person I'd expect that from."
"I'm just saying—"
"We have to do this," she cut him off and held out her keys. "We have to stop them, and this is the only thing we've got. If you can't, then I'll do it myself. Even if it's not enough, I'll…"
"This is the only opportunity we'll get," he said instead, the determination in his eyes enough to make her relax, if only a little. "I promise to make it work. No matter what it takes."
She nodded. Then, head snapping towards the side, she mustered all her strength.
"Yukino!"
"Lucy-sama…"
"Let's do this."
"Yes!"
The girl stepped beside her, eyes closed as she grasped Lucy's hands. Nearly dozen golden lights blasted into the air, filling in the designated space on the giant time portal, until only a single keyhole remained empty. But it was enough. It had to be. The two Celestial Spirit mages refused to let that setback stop them. At this point, no error could be afforded.
"Go!" Lucy screamed, as the portal opened, the light blinding them all.
Their ally nodded, taking the first step towards the golden radiance, as the sheer amount of power threatened to throw him backwards. "This… This is…"
"Go!" The desperate scream tore through Lucy's throat. "Don't let my younger self make the same mistake I did! Please!"
"I promise."
Tears once again spilled down Lucy's cheeks, but this time she made no attempt to wipe them away. She refused to relax, refused to let go, until she was absolutely sure he was gone, until there was no trace left of him. Finally, the light died down on its own and her hands slumped down, knees buckling, and the next moment she was on the ground, magic deficiency taking its toll. Yukino collapsed beside her, breathing ragged.
"We did it, Lucy-sama… we made it… we gave it our all… and we succeeded..."
"Y-yes," she cried, as more tears spilled on the ground. "We made it in time…"
She could tell they were there, however. Even before she saw them, she could tell they were coming. She tightened her fists, summoning the keys back in her trembling hands. With the last of her strength, she forced herself to lift off the ground.
"Lucy-sama, you're not… really intending… to fight them…" Yukino gasped, but all the same, climbed to her elbows. "You mustn't. You alone… after what happened to Erza-sama..."
Lucy shuddered, but the thought of it only gave her more strength to straighten up. And suddenly they were right there, standing right in front of them, just as threatening as they'd been the first time she'd seen them. Their eyes narrowed to slits, filled with hate, unspoken power glistening under their skin.
"Lucy Heartfilia… Yukino Agria… what have you…" The words already filled with hostility were laced with even more hatred as they took in the state of the construction behind them. "Unforgivable."
"Leave, Yukino!" she screamed, as the overwhelming power threatened to bring them both down. "This is my choice! My responsibility! My battle! You still have people you need to protect! Go!" She gripped onto her keys as if she was holding on for her dear life, refusing to be pushed down.
"Lucy-sama!"
"Just go!" Gathering the last of her magic power, she gave it her all, for this was her part to play. This was her final stand. And there was no way she was going to go down without a fight.
For that was the way of Fairy Tail mages.
The town of Magnolia was truly something magnificent.
The sun had barely risen, yet the number of people in the streets was astounding, shops opening, stalls preparing for what was about to become another busy day. As if to support their efforts, the sky was perfectly clear, without even a cloud to obstruct the early morning rays of sunshine.
A lonely figure walked down the street at a steady pace, as if measuring each step carefully, counting how many more until reaching its destination. There was tension to the cloaked shoulders, and a strange sort of restlessness that might as well had been tangible. The citizen could tell, this person didn't belong. An intruder. They stared at him, as he walked past them. The dirty cloak swung with every step, slightly lifted by the gentle breeze. Almost perfectly aligned, as if done for theatrical purposes.
"One of them," a man whispered to an old lady, and suddenly it was as if a button was switched. Nobody looked twice, returning to their own business as if there was nothing at all strange about the shadowed face under the cloak covered in rips and dry blood. Perfectly normal, was the best way to describe it. Nothing worth seeing.
A small girl, not five years old, was perfectly at ease running past the mysterious figure, as if the large, gaping, blood stained hole on the cloak was not there at all. The mother, words of warning escaping her lips, slowed down at the sight of him, merely staring for a moment.
Then she bowed her head, ever so slightly, and smiled. "Good work."
The figure froze, with one foot still in the air, but the woman was already rushing back after her child, fruitlessly telling her to slow down.
Shoulders sagged, right arm slowly lifting until the hand gripped the cloak right above the nasty rip in the cloth. He could sense it under his fingertips, the additionally sewn material, right where his heart should be. A part of it was torn away in one of the scuffles, but more than enough remained to be recognizable to everybody in the city, and further.
Fairy Tail.
Under the skin of his fingers, the white cloth sewn on the black cloak burst in flames, then slowly died down, until nothing but ash remained in his hand.
And as though nothing happened at all, the shadowed individual continued his estranged journey.
"What—" the waitress froze, as her eyes landed upon the new arrival. Dirt covered dark cloak, thrown over a sleeveless shirt in what had to be the warmest day of the fall yet, with tiny rips all over, and a giant, gaping hole over the chest, as if somebody had tried to take its heart out with magic. There were sprinkles of blood all over the cloak, along with charred corners and holes that might as well had been burned into it and what little could be seen of the body was muscled and strong, with traces of scarred skin. The hood had somehow escaped undamaged, hiding most of the face in the shadows, but revealing enough to tell that the arrival could pass as a relatively young man.
Whatever fear or nervousness she might have felt at the odd sense of danger the man brought with him, something that most of the guild must have sensed given the amount of effort many of them had put into lifting their heads high enough to catch a glimpse of him, she hid it all with a smile. "What may I get you, mister?"
"The strongest you've got."
The voice was so low that she might have barely heard him over the usual background noise. His entrance alone had already drawn more than enough attention, but despite the antics, it was easy enough to see he had everybody on their toes, though the way they showed it might as well had confused anybody unfamiliar with how the cogs in the guild functioned.
The stranger showed no sign of outward nervousness however, not even as the master calmly walked along the bar to stand right beside him, somehow not looking out of place there. Almost like a decorative ornament.
The waitress sent a questioning gaze to the old man, to which he replied with an approving nod, and watched her obediently reach for the strongest drink they had available — strong enough to knock out even the biggest drinkers.
"Hard liquor, first thing in the morning? Eh, eh, eh… Youth these days. Can't even appreciate alcohol right. Just gurgle on it whenever they see fit."
His dejected shaking of the head would have in any other situation been a subject of teasing and eventually another ensuing bar brawl. Now, everybody, including the old man, seemed to have other things on their mind. Nobody did anything more than scoff, at worst, before going back to whatever discussion they'd been leading before, one ear readily taking in every information they could get on the stranger.
The mysterious figure let out a snort and despite all the efforts to suppress it, was unable to completely stop his lips from curving, a fact which the guildmaster quickly detected.
"I was given advice," he began, lightly, "to kick the door down… demand to know what year it is. Optionally, I should loudly proclaim my failure and bemoan my near miss. Return a year later, rinse and repeat."
"Oh?" Makarov Dreyar looked mildly interested. "Lost bet?"
"Last one out, so to speak."
The waitress returned, laying a small glass in front of him with a pleasant smile. "Here you go. Whiskey imported all the way from the East, a famous brewery. We're one of the few places that have it. Please, take it slo—"
The figure reached for it, cutting her off, and downed it all in one gulp, much to both her and Makarov's sputtering.
He slammed the glass on the counter. "One more."
"O-oi!" Makarov shouted. "That wasn't just any drink! We do not take kindly to customers passing out at our bar!"
"I shall keep that in mind."
For several long seconds, it was only tense silence while the girl rushed to get his order. Makarov stared at him intently, but the figure would not look away from the empty glass, what little could be seen of his face a perfect mask of calm, as if silently mocking Makarov's barely hidden curiosity. Well, two could play this game.
"There you go," the girl said, leaving the glass in front of him, smile just as perfect as before.
The figure glanced at the drink, but made no move to take it.
"So…" the stranger began, as quietly as ever. Given the hushed noises in the hall, there was no doubt a number of people could hear him. Wanted to hear him. And he was perfectly aware of it.
If anything, Makarov was staring at him even more intently. "Mmm?"
"May I take a look at the calendar?"
The question was followed by several loud snorts, snide chuckles and even a violent cough as somebody spat out the drink through their nose. Loud crash indicated that somebody had fallen out of the chair, an event followed by a round of laughter and what seemed to be the beginning of the first brawl for the morning.
For his part, the old man just spluttered. "What?! You still going on about that?"
The stranger shrugged. As if that somehow excused everything.
With an annoyed huff, Makarov said, "September 25th, X780. There, I played along. Now it's your turn."
This time, the stranger did reach for the glass. Maybe he was just that desperate for an excuse and alcohol induced lunacy was as good as any.
"I see," he said, slowly. "It appears I was too late after all. Well, there was little hope to begin with."
Makarov gave him the longest, driest look he could, hopefully making it perfectly clear he was having none of this. If it weren't for the fact the man's mere presence had that something that left him nervous and restless, he wouldn't have bothered to begin with.
Slamming the empty glass back on the counter, the visitor let out a quiet yawn, which he quickly hid with the back of his hand. The move itself was rushed, kinda wobbly and made it clear the strong alcohol was beginning to take effect. The hood turned back towards Makarov, though the most he could see was the lower lip moving.
"Don't judge. This is the last drink I'll willingly take, so might as well make it worth something."
"That kind of attitude gives off some pretty negative vibes, you know," Makarov informed him.
The stranger shrugged, hand reaching under the cloak.
To say everybody in the room was on high alert would be an understatement of the century. Out of dozen plus guild members, there were perhaps two who had not focused their attention on him, just daring him to make any rushed moves. Nobody was particularly worried, since everyone knew damn well that Makarov Dreyar could take care of himself way better than any one of them, but it was merely a matter of pride. Nobody walked into their guild to cause trouble and got out unscathed.
The figure smiled, lifting off the cloak just enough so for Makarov to see the mark etched in his shoulder.
"Make no mistake," the man said, before the aged guildmaster could do much more than stare. "I'm no enemy."
"I suggest we move this conversation to my office," Makarov said, with a sharp edge to his voice that normally would have had anyone at least a little bit nervous.
The visitor, however, showed no signs of being affected in the slightest as he nodded respectfully, then gestured at the emptied glass of what had more or less been liquefied poison. "Of course. As soon as I'm able to stand straight."
Makarov snorted, all the tension melting from his shoulders. Obviously, that guildmark was no joke. "That's what you get for drinking so early in the morning. Oi, one large breakfast here. The lad looks like he hasn't eaten anything in awhile."
"Of course. Coming right up!" the waitress replied with a grin, visibly more at ease now that the master himself seemed to be taking the situation only half-seriously.
The figure let out a long sigh. "I'm fine."
"Shut it. Skipping meals ain't good for anyone's health. Any preferences? Our food choice here may be limited, but we have something for everybody. Which I'd guess you're already aware of."
Head lowered slightly, but more than enough to hide the entirety of the stranger's face. Voice was even lower, grudgingly obedient. "Yeah, I know. Anything's fine."
"Hear that?" Makarov shouted. "Make it extra large!"
"Yes, sir!"
For several moments, there was silence. The figure kept its head low, focused on the empty glass, his voice hesitant as he spoke.
"How'd you… no, never mind."
Makarov raised an eyebrow, arms resting behind his back. "With my age, you quickly recognize the signs. When was your last meal? Three days ago? Four?"
"Close enough," the stranger murmured.
"And first thing you get is booze. Why am I not surprised?" Makarov rolled his eyes. "Now, I know I said this is a conversation to be finished in the office, but I do believe there is one thing you can tell me."
"Oh?" The figure glanced towards the guildmaster, not bothering to hide either restlessness or amusement.
"Your name."
At that, he let out a brief, mirthless chuckle. "Ah, that."
Makarov's eyes narrowed a fraction. "Yes, that. Any objections?"
The smile lingered as the man played with his glass. "No, not really. First, may I ask something as well?"
Makarov regarded him suspiciously. "Go ahead."
"May I get some rest here? This was a long journey, and sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford."
"Well, I suppose—oi! Don't just fall asleep on the counter! I told you we don't take kindly to our customers passing out!"
The figure hummed in agreement, sound rebounding off the hardwood as his forehead hit the counter. Hand rummaging around on the inner side of his coat, he said, "I'll answer any questions you have later."
Makarov glanced at the piece of paper handed to him and straightened it, unimpressed.
"And your name?"
"Meir."
"Just Meir?" he grumbled. "Doesn't sound familiar to me."
Even in the shadows of the hood, Makarov could still see traces of a curved lip as the man shifted on the bar to use his arms as impromptu pillows. "Of course it wouldn't. I just thought of it." And with that, he turned away, the shift followed by the sound of quiet snores. Leaving him there like that was a poor solution, obviously, but there wasn't much that could be done, when poking on the shoulder resulted in not even a stir.
"Want a bucket of water, gramps?" Laxus asked from the side, lazy yawn escaping his lips even as he stretched his limbs. How long he'd been standing there was anyone's guess, but at this point the guildmaster had absolutely more pressing issues to deal with.
"Not yet. I did agree to let him rest."
"Um… sir?" The waitress gestured at the sleeping form. "What do I do about breakfast?"
"Let me know when you finish it. I'll kick him awake if I have to."
"Understood."
Makarov focused back on the note. "Hmph. As if something like this would make up for anything." The piece of paper looked like it had been crumpled at some point, carelessly ripped out of a notebook, words scrawled a hurry, and there had to be at least two different handwritings. It followed a pattern of sorts, with a year and several words written in readable red ink. Around them was a whole number of scrawled black abbreviations and notes that were more or less impossible to decipher.
It was the readable content, however, that quickly had Makarov's undivided attention.
X784 The Tower of Heaven
That alone was enough to warrant caution, but it were the notes around it that really made his stomach turn, at least what little he could decipher.
-preferably X776
-Whatever you do, Etherion MUST NOT fire
-Erza will beat you up
Given the notorious reputation the magical cannon had and the fact that approval for its use required almost unanimous consent of the Council, Makarov had to wonder what could possibly have happened to warrant its use. It was telling, however, that Etherion soon became the least of his concerns.
X784 Nirvana
-Wendy! Wendy! Wendy!
-don't you dare think 'it might be of use'
-once more for good measure - NO
The last word was underlined twice, circled and it even had a tiny x to mark it as important. Makarov idly wondered just what kind of people he was dealing with here. This certainly lacked the kind of professionalism he'd expect from an organized time-travel operation aiming to stop the firing of Etherion, of all things.
X784 Edolas
-could be trouble, not much we can do
-see with Mystogan if you can warn everybody beforehand
-no funny ideas
-goes for him too
Okay, maybe some of this time traveling shtick the man was hinting at had some merit, other than the obvious. Very few people knew of Mystogan at all, let alone anything about him. Hmm… maybe he could ask around a little.
X784 Tenrou and Acnologia
-at least stop the time jump?
-on second thought, avoid at all costs
-you can look for Zeref tho
That had to be the most shocking part of all, however. Glancing over confirmed more text on the other side, but Makarov ignored it. After this, he didn't know what to think.
"On second thought, how about you get me one of those as well?" he said, gesturing towards the empty glass, resting inches away from the Fairy Tail's alleged survivor from the future.
This was clearly an elaborate plan of some sort, with at least two known participants, likely both from his very own guild. Clearly something big enough happened to warrant time traveling, and given that it had Zeref, Acnologia and Tenrou in the same section, Makarov found the underlying logic to actually be sound. He'd need to work on deciphering the rest soon, but for now, he pushed the paper in his pocket. Only to look up and find the girl staring.
"Master?" she asked, round eyes blinking very, very slowly. "Are you sure about that drink?"
He shrugged. "It looks like I'll have a busy day ahead."
With that said, he walked over until he was standing right in front of the self-professed time traveler going by the name of Meir — seriously what kind of a name was that to begin with? Silly child clearly had no naming sense whatsoever. Carefully, he aimed a fist, perfectly lining it up with the point where the center of his forehead should be.
"Oi, gramps!" Laxus called in alarm
"I assure you, this is perfectly justified."
Sparing a quick flexing of his shoulders, he let the enlarged fist fly, elongating the limb at speeds few would associate with the diminutive old man. Newcomer landed on the floor in a battered heap, flailing and spluttering, as he tried to clumsily straighten up and identify what kind of force was it that had quite literally punched him out of his drunken stupor.
His attempt to question it quickly devolved into a belated coughing fit.
Makarov put his arms on his hips. "Rise and shine, stripling! Nap time is over!"
"Sir?" The newcomer sounded genuinely confused. If the issue weren't so serious, Makarov might have found it hilarious, that a big and scary mage from the future had for a moment let out a sound similar to a terrified child. That, and the fact that the silly hood had stayed in place as if it was somehow glued to the youth's forehead.
"You've got lots to explain. Finish the breakfast and come. There will be time for rest later."
Few seconds passed in silence, as the man slowly picked himself up and settled back on the chair. "Yessir," he murmured under his breath. Makarov nearly missed the smile on the youth's face, though this time it had a bit of an embarrassed quality to it. Though this time, he noticed something else as well.
While the hood had stayed in place, for the most part, it did also reveal a little more of the newcomer's face. Close to where the subtle smile started, near the right corner of his lip, skin stretched unnaturally, consequence of a burn scar of some sort, rising upwards into the shadows of the hood. How far it went was anyone's guess.
Well, that explained it. Makarov straightened his back.
"Meir, was it?"
He noticed the crouched shoulders tense at his grand tone, as Makarov spoke at the top of his voice, with the purpose of getting the attention of the party in question, as well as everybody else in the vicinity. Youth gave a small nod, even as he unwillingly left the food that had been placed in front of him moments ago aside, if only to focus on the guildmaster. Makarov nodded back, resting his arms behind his back solemnly and assuring himself that he'd made the right choice and that he wasn't jumping the gun just yet. Then, in loud, measured voice, he began his announcement.
"You have come to the right place, young traveler. No matter how far your journey takes you, no matter what enemies and difficulties you may face , from this point onward, you have but one duty. Believe! Believe in the comrades that guard your back. Believe in the place, the home, you can now always return to. But most importantly, believe in yourself and the bonds that tie you to your friends, and you will never be lost again.
"Welcome to Fairy Tail."
