He once dreamed of becoming the strongest and surpassing his mentor. Now, his dreams were a lot more simpler, but no less ambitious. He has always been a greedy man after all. AU future fic.
He has always hated the smell of disinfectant in the hospital. It was a too clean stench that seemed to suck out any energy, and if Lyon was feeling metaphorical, he would say it's the scent of death.
"Lyon?" Chelia's head was peering out from behind the door. Her eyes were rimmed red, tears still clinging to her lashes. "Master is ready to see you."
He exhaled, gathering his nerves as he stood up and entered the private room. Jura was standing in a corner, arms folded across his chest. To Lyon, the older man looked like he was hugging himself in an attempt to protect from the grief. Toby was sniffling loudly and clutching onto Sherry like a child. He looked up when Lyon entered, met his eyes and burst into further tears.
Then, he shoved past Lyon, door slamming behind him. Sherry smiled bitterly at him, a hand brushing against his shoulder as she chased after Toby. Yuka remained behind, closing his eyes against the outbreak of emotions.
"Lyon?" Ooba croaked out softly from the bed.
The Ice-make mage took one shuddering breath and sat down on the empty chair beside the bed. He reached out for the feeble, wrinkled hand laying on her side and felt spindly fingers entangled with his.
Chelia's presence was warm and solid at his back, and he briefly wondered at how much the once young, precocious child had grown. Losing her magic was the final straw, he mused. It had forced her to grow up and mature rapidly, becoming one of the pillars for the guild.
"Are you crying, brat?" Ooba chuckled, squinting his eyes at him. "I'm not dead yet. Don't go crying before I leave."
"Shut up. I'm not crying." Lyon snapped back instinctively. His eyes were stinging and he had to force himself to remain his usual impassive self. Stupid old woman, speaking like she's just going on a vacation.
"My soft-hearted boy," Ooba murmured in a tired sigh, her grip tightening around his hand for a moment. "You have always tried to become ice, but you possessed such a gentle heart."
"Don't try to make me sound better than I am." He frowned slightly.
Ooba laughed in response, before she was cut off by a loud cough. The sound grated against his ears and he felt himself stiffened up.
Ooba Babasaama had been a brilliant mage when she was young, brimming full of talent and life. But the years of missions had taken its toll on her body. Even when she was a young woman, she had a small, petite body. She was never particularly strong physically, although her magic power had more than make up for it.
The years of abuse and injuries had worn down her body, and as age slowly stole her vitality, it gotten harder for her to fend off all the vicious illnesses that attacked her weakening body.
"Lyon," Ooba wheezed, and he reached out to try to soothe her pain by rubbing against her back. "I'm entrusting this guild to you to look after."
His hand stilled as he registered her meaning. He met her steady gaze, and despite the pain in her eyes, they were full of resolve and pride.
"No," He denied. "I can't become Guild Master. Choose someone else. I will not make a suitable Master..." His voice faltered. "I'll ruin this guild."
"You're not the boy you once were decades ago, Lyon." Ooba said softly. He shook his head. He was still too hard, too cruel and headstrong to ever become a leader. He might have thought of becoming Guild Master once when he was younger, but he realized he was more contented to serve behind a greater leader.
"Jura-san would make a better Guild Master than I." He objected. For years, it had been the general consensus that Jura would be the new Guild Master of Lamia Scale after Ooba passed away or retired. After all, Ooba had been grooming the man back before he had joined the Magic Council.
"I'm old, Lyon, and I have been growing older in the past ten years. I might be Guild Master, but everyone in the guild looks to you in times of trouble. The townspeople look up to you and the other mages respects you. You've changed a lot over the years." Ooba smiled, clearly reading the thoughts on his face. "Don't dismiss your own ability over Jura. I know... that you'll become a far greater Guild Master than I or my predecessors."
She stretched out a shaky hand, pressing it against the wet tears on his cheeks. He leaned forward, grabbing her hand to press his forehead against their fists.
"I trust you," She breathed. "That you'll protect everyone in the guild no matter what it takes... because that's the sort of person you are. But... don't ever forget that gentleness in your heart. You have friends by your side. Lean on them."
"Yes." He choked.
He has lost people to death before; to war, to sacrifice, to love, and they all hurt every time. But they were all quick and painless, fleeting even. Their deaths had happened so swiftly that he was not given time to try to save them. He could fight off injuries and enemies, but no matter how strong he had become, he could not defeat old age.
Ooba's death was quiet, unlike the vivacious woman she was in life. One blink and she had already passed on. Nothing beautiful or profound about her death.
Chelia wailing her anguish behind him was the only reason he knew she was gone. The shake of tears trembled through his limbs and he closed his eyes tightly, surrounding himself to grief.
The funeral had been small and simple. It was, he thought, what Ooba would have wanted. She lacked the patience and would have gotten fed up by the crowd. As it was, the ceremony was uncomplicated and brief as well.
There was not a single dry eye around. Ooba was much loved by all who knew her, even outside the guild.
Lyon stood at the back of the ceremony, and the frigid look on his face was enough to scare any well-wisher away. He was in no mood to talk, so he does what he does best. He watched over the guild silently as he always did, and to make sure no idiot accidentally made any of his guild member cry because of an insensitive remark.
With the presences of the other Guild Masters like Laxus and Sting, and a small contingent each from their respective guild, Lyon was going to make sure the ceremony goes smoothly without any hysterics or breakdown.
He just wanted to get everything over with so he could return home and grieve properly.
Lyon have always thought himself a simple man, no matter what others thought of him. It was no fault of his that he was surrounded by morons.
He was Guild Master now, no matter how much he wished that he wasn't – or was one in different circumstances. He has a much bigger duty now, and he's not going to run from it.
Lamia Scale had been one of the top guilds. It still was, but it had stagnated ever since the war with the Alvarez Empire. Unlike Fairy Tail and Sabertooth, who was constantly making impact on the world, Lamia Scale seemed to have remain the same.
Still strong and reliable, of course. But the complacency had make the guild dull.
Ooba would be happy to see some changes, he mused. He has no idea what sort of Guild Master he would become, but he knew that making her wishes come true was the least he could do.
He would make this guild greater than ever, and as long as there's even a single person that calls Lamia Scale 'home', this guild will not fall.
