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Eviction/Job Hunting (1)

When He returned to his apartment one evening and found his landlady sitting outside his door in a rocking chair that she'd obviously dragged out there for that purpose, He knew his time was up. He closed the door of the building quietly behind him and ghosted down the short hallway until He was standing across from the elderly woman. She was just as He remembered—her hands busy with her knitting, her demeanor calm, that ever-present green shawl wrapped snugly about her shoulders. Leaning back against the wall and bracing one foot against it, He crossed his arms loosely over his chest and cleared his throat.

The landlady looked up from her knitting, the needles stilling in her gnarled hands and their soft clicking fading to silence. She studied him thoughtfully, her normally kind eyes no more wary than they usually were.

"Hello, Gray," she said, her face crinkling further as she offered him a small smile. "It's been a while."

"It has," He replied. He hadn't seen her since the evacuation of Magnolia, and there had been enough going on that He hadn't run into her after the war even though she must have moved back into the city days ago. As such, He wasn't entirely sure where He stood with her, and eyed her guardedly. "I've been busy, I'm afraid."

"I've heard. You always were the 'run off and save the world' type, and I'm sure you've been busy settling back in, even after all that business with the Council. Have you quite recovered? You don't look too injured."

And she was asking after his health. Right.

"I'm fine, thanks." He sighed and let his gaze wander down the hall. "How is your family? They make it out alright?"

"Yes, everyone who was still in the city made it out with the evacuation." She clicked her tongue quietly as she added, "Most of them have moved back now, but Sally refuses to bring her children back until things settle down more." She shook her head in gentle disapproval, and He wondered if her daughter was so wary of coming back because the city was still a mess after Zeref's armies or because her mother was housing a demon. "But Nat came by to check for damage on the building, and he said that the roof had been repaired recently. Since you're our resident handyman, I assume you fixed it?"

"I did."

"Well, thank you. It saved Nat's back, anyway. The poor dear was so pleased not to have to spend his day doing repairs."

He hummed noncommittally. He had very little involvement with her children and grandchildren other than the stories she told, and although He was glad to have spared them some hassle, He wished she would just cut to the chase.

"You don't seem as nervous as you should," He remarked neutrally.

"I'm eighty-three, dear," she said with a chuckle, turning her gaze back to her knitting as the needles began clacking together quietly again. "Some people become more fearful as they age, others more fearless. Between you and me, I wouldn't even bat an eyelash at the Grim Reaper himself anymore. In any case, I reason that you have had many opportunities to do me harm over the past years we've known each other, and you've always been a perfect angel."

He coughed out a laugh despite himself. "An angel," He repeated, shaking his head fondly.

She shrugged. "I've lived for a long time, and I like to think that I've become a good judge of character. And you've lived here for long enough that I'd like to think I've gotten a good read on you. I've heard a great deal about you over the past few weeks, but I still remember the boy who always took time out of his day to drop by and listen to me ramble about my grandchildren, who always did favors for me around this place so that I didn't have to hire outside help, who always stopped by to make sure I was alright if he hadn't seen me in a while. You've always been a joy to have around, dear."

"Ah, you've always seen the best in everyone, Obaa–" He paused, hesitated uncertainly, but then shrugged. After all these years, He couldn't honestly envision calling her anything else. "Obaa-san. It will get you in trouble one day."

"I'd invite the Grim Reaper in for cookies if he showed up on my doorstep," she said with another shrug, and his lips quirked upward. "Well, am I wrong, then? Should I be afraid?"

"Of me? Not particularly."

"I didn't think so." Her smile faded and her hands stilled again. She suddenly looked older, the wrinkles on her face deepening. "But I'm afraid not everyone shares my view."

And here it was. It looked like the small talk was over now.

"Don't I know it." He gave her a wan smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kick up a fuss. I've already begun making preparations to move out."

"You…what?" She frowned, caught off guard.

"You're here to evict me. I was honestly expecting you days ago. I might have moved out already if I hadn't been so busy taking care of other business."

The landlady frowned and looked back down at the mess of blue yarn in her lap, although she didn't start up her knitting again. "This isn't something I particularly want to do," she said. "But I've been receiving pressure from the other tenants and from the neighbors, and…"

"It's alright," He said with a tired smile. "You can't expect everyone to want to live next door to a demon."

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I understand."

"Do you have alternative arrangements set up yet? I'm having a difficult time seeing how you're going to find another place."

"Don't you worry about that," He said smoothly, keeping his gaze steady. "I have plans."

Not terribly good plans since she was right and no one would particularly want him living anywhere near them, but good enough plans.

His landlady—former landlady, He supposed—sighed again. "Well, I wish you luck with that. I'm not planning on renting your flat out again, so you're welcome to come back once all the fuss starts dying down."

"You're…what?" He frowned and shook his head. "You needn't bother."

"Well, it would already be more challenging than usual to rent out because there seems to be a rumor going around that it's cursed or some such nonsense." She honest to God rolled her eyes, which was an expression He had never seen from her before. "Or perhaps they just think that you'll be bitter and vengeful, and anyone who dares live in your old place is asking to get themselves eaten. And in any case, I am not happy that they are all forcing my hand. I will hold your apartment for you. You're welcome to leave some of your things here instead of having to move them all around."

"But–"

"Don't worry about the rent."

"But–"

"Goodness knows you've provided a great deal of outside service over the years, the roof being only the latest addition to that list. If you must insist on some kind of compensation, we can say that your past labor is payment enough."

He stared at her silently, his mouth twisting into a funny expression. In a world where most everyone suddenly hated him and He had lost so much in one fell swoop, this was an unexpectedly kind gesture. It was definitely more than He had anticipated, and it made his heart clench painfully.

"I think that's the most times you've ever interrupted me," He said, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. "What happened to that punctilious politeness of yours?"

She chuckled. "Perhaps I just don't feel like listening to your protests. I do believe that things will eventually begin settling down, and I'd like to see you back here when they do."

He stayed silent for a long moment as He resolutely studied the floor, then cleared his throat again and said, "Thank you."

"Of course, dear. And there's no rush. If you need some time to follow through on your arrangements, you're welcome to stay here until you get them finalized."

"I'll be gone first thing in the morning. Better to get it over with quickly so that you don't have to keep dealing with the hassle."

"I don't mind dealing with a little hassle."

"Ah, but I'd rather you didn't have to."

His landlady sighed and smiled, then gathered up her knitting and made to rise. He stepped forward almost automatically, offering her his arm and helping her up.

"Thank you, dear."

"No problem." He helped her down the hall to her apartment, dragging her chair behind him.

"You should drop by to chat again sometime," she said as He replaced her chair in its normal position and drifted back to the doorway.

"I'm afraid that it might be better if I stay away." He gave her a tired half-smile. "It would be better if you weren't seen with me."

She sighed and rubbed at her face wearily. "You're right, I suppose. We might have to wait until you move back."

"Sure." Pasting on a crooked grin, He added, "But if you ever need me for anything, I'll be hanging around the guild."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said with a fond smile. "Good luck, Gray. Take care of yourself, you hear?"

"Thank you, I will. You take care of yourself too, Obaa-san. Make those lazy kids of yours stop by every once in a while to help you out."

She laughed as He shut the door behind him and retreated to his apartment. Slipping inside, He flipped on the light and looked around with a heavy sigh. It felt different looking at it now, now that He knew this was the last time He would be here in a long time. He was usually busy enough that He didn't spend too much time here, but now He realized that He would truly miss it.

Well, He supposed his landlady was actually going to let him keep it. That would be helpful, since He wouldn't be able to keep track of all his belongings. He'd anticipated having to get rid of most of them, but now He could store them here and take only the most important with him.

But still… He would no longer have this space, or any space of his own, for a long time. He leaned back against the door and let his gaze roam over the living room with its couch and armchair and desk, everything arranged tidily; the kitchen with the dishes stacked neatly in the cabinets and the fridge that was always too big for what He put in it; the bedroom with the neatly-made bed and closet full of clothes He would no longer shed.

He would miss its quirks too, all those little things that had proved to be minor irritations over the years: the oven that took much too long to pre-heat, the lamp that always seemed to flicker no matter how religiously He checked the wiring, the sharp edge of the bedpost that He banged some part of his body into at least once a month, the chipped tile in the kitchen by the sink. All those little imperfections had made this place home as much as his neatly-arranged belongings and personal effects.

It was strange, He reflected, the things you would miss most about a place. You never really realized until it was time to let them go.

He really ought to pack, He supposed. He did intend to leave first thing in the morning. But then again, He wouldn't be taking much with him, and the thought of gathering up his belongings seemed too final, an acknowledgement that He was really leaving and no longer had a place here. Maybe He'd just go to sleep and worry about that in the morning, because right now it seemed like it would take too much energy.

His eye caught on the brownish-yellow water stain marring the otherwise pristine white of the wall, left over from when the building had experienced a minor plumbing disturbance. He had really meant to paint that over after they'd gotten the problem sorted out, but something had always come up and He'd never gotten around to it. That suddenly seemed like a failure on his part, like He hadn't taken care of what He had while He had it.

Actually, He thought He still had some old paint around here somewhere. A few minutes of digging through the closet turned up a half-empty can of white paint and a stiff-bristled brush. So instead of packing his things, He spent the next half hour carefully painting over the stain, brushing white over it and watching it disappear bit by bit.

This was still his home, if only for tonight, and He would take care of it while He had it. Tomorrow He would pack and move and leave, but for tonight this was his.

When He'd finished, He stood back and stared at the still-glistening patch of white for a long time, his eyes unfocused. Then He slowly walked away, turned off the light, and went to sleep.

All things considered, being homeless wasn't really as bad as He'd anticipated. He certainly missed his flat, of course, and life would be much more convenient if He had somewhere to go back to at the end of the day, but He'd managed to make things work.

He had left almost all of his belongings in the apartment, and taken only the essentials with him. The guild's storeroom was messy and cluttered enough that He could easily find places to tuck his things away for storage where no one would stumble across them. And since He didn't feel like explaining himself or listening to his friends fuss and rage over something so trivial, He kept the issue quiet.

He hadn't bothered looking for alternative housing since He didn't doubt that all He'd get for his troubles was a pack of angry and frightened landlords shooing him away, but finding places to sleep at night wasn't too tricky. Sometimes He stayed in the guild, silently creeping back in after everyone had left to spend the night on the storeroom floor. As long as He made sure to get up before everyone started trickling in for the day, it was like He'd never been there at all. He was careful not to be caught there since He technically wasn't part of the guild anymore and half of the guild would just as soon see him run off, but He figured that He wasn't really hurting anything by staying. Sure, He wasn't paying rent or for the use of the amenities, but He figured that He could make up for that later.

When He didn't feel like staying at the guild overnight, He could usually find a secluded corner or copse of trees to bed down in. He just had to be careful to pick places where no one would stumble upon him, because although not everyone would recognize his face, He was still public enemy number one in the city right now. No need to invite an impromptu lynching. But there were lots of nice places out in the park and in the trees along the river, and He found that He sometimes preferred sleeping out in the grass under the stars to bunkering down in the guild's overcrowded backroom. It was sort of like camping, and He had decided to stay optimistic and look at this as a sort of adventure.

So honestly, it wasn't the eviction that was a real problem. Job hunting, on the other hand, was a bigger issue.

"Ice magic?" asked the chief of the small mountain village. The short man's mouth twisted into some combination of anger and fear as he narrowed his eyes. "You're Fairy Tail's pet demon?"

Busted again.

"I'm the demon, yes," He said, resisting the urge to sigh.

The village men were starting to inch forward, closing around him in a half-circle as if preparing to chase him out, while the women and children backed up. They were all watching him with wary eyes, and everyone who had a weapon was pointing it at him.

"Begone," the chief growled, his body tensing as if he was expecting an attack.

Now He really did sigh. "I'm honestly not here to eat your children. Do you want help with your wyvern problem or not?"

He didn't know why He bothered when He already knew that the opportunity was lost. The lack of a guild mark wasn't the real obstacle to getting jobs done—Makarov and Fairy Tail looked the other way and let him take jobs even though He didn't technically have the authority to do so anymore, and most clients didn't bother asking to see a guild mark since they just wanted a mage to solve their problems as quickly as possible and weren't too picky about who was helping them. But although He was just a faceless boogeyman to most of Fiore, putting ice magic and Fairy Tail together was sure to raise suspicions. He always tried to keep his magic out of view and sidestep any questions about it, but sometimes there was just no easy way around it.

"We'll have a different mage help us," said the chief, his hostility palpable. "A human mage."

Fair enough. Shrugging, He backed out of the village and worked his way down the narrow trail through the rust-colored stone of the mountainside. There was no need to push things further and cause a scene, not when these people had at least resisted the urge to try lynching him. Which was more than He could say about some of the other people He'd run into lately.

He could feel wary, unfriendly eyes boring into his back all the way down the trail until He'd reached the bottom of the mountain and slipped out of view, and He waited for the villagers tailing him to turn back before He headed for a different trail nearby and started back up. He really ought to just leave it alone, but wyverns were nasty business and an unwary villager or unsuspecting child could easily fall prey to one if it was living nearby.

Of course, since He hadn't received the full briefing from the villagers, He was working on incomplete information. He knew that there was a wyvern living in a cave somewhere around the village, and that was about it. But wyverns were large beasts with no love of stealth, and it shouldn't be too difficult to search around and find some signs of this one's passing.

He began combing the mountainside, keen eyes scanning the crags and reddish rock for any disturbances. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, so He trudged and climbed wearily as He searched. If nothing else, it gave him time to mentally berate himself for another lost opportunity.

It wasn't that He was short on cash, and this wasn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it was still an annoyance. Since He liked to be well-prepared and was more of a planner than his friends gave him credit for, He'd built up a nest egg over the years for emergencies…and because He'd anticipated possibly having to go on the run someday if his identity was ever discovered. And since He wasn't currently paying rent or for many other expenses aside from food and a handful of other necessities, He wasn't exactly in trouble yet. But He did intend to give both his landlady and the guild some form of compensation for his apartment and living expenses someday, and that would be hard to do if He kept doing all his jobs for free.

His lips twitched upward into a predatory grin as He spotted a set of claw marks raked across a rocky overhang. "Got you now," He crooned, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction.

He had little trouble following the trail of claw marks, disturbed stone, flattened vegetation, and animal bones, and soon found himself standing just outside the gaping maw of a cave dug into the mountainside. He peered inside, squinting against the blackness and seeing absolutely nothing through the shadows, and considered his options. It would be a horrible idea to go inside. For one, He wouldn't be able to see anything, and for two, it would give the wyvern a home-field advantage.

Time to lure out the overgrown lizard. He backed away from the mouth of the cave and settled into a defensive stance before clapping his hands and making an unattractive sound meant to mimic the cry of a wounded animal.

"Come on," He mumbled, bouncing on his heels as He eyed the cave. "Don't make me try to make that godawful noise again."

Maybe He could take up animal-sound mimicry as a new hobby in his spare time. Who knew when it might come in handy?

He was just about to give in and simulate an easy meal one more time, but then something scraped loudly against stone. A green-scaled wyvern burst out of the cave, its emerald wings flaring wide to blot out the sun for the briefest of seconds. It lunged for the demon and He jumped back, hands already in motion as He molded ice lances to strike right at the creature's beady little eyes. It let out a shrill screech as the ice connected, and He charged forward, an icy sword springing to his hand.

These beasts were wiry and clever, but He'd caught this one off guard and meant to take full advantage of its momentary surprise. He managed to dodge the gleaming claws that raked through the air just by his face and the spike-tipped tail that lashed out at his legs, and brought his sword down on the wyvern's slender neck, cutting deeply into the flesh and scraping against bone.

A mortal wound, but an injured animal was still a dangerous one. And He'd rather put the wyvern out of its misery—He had no love of slow and agonizing deaths. Ducking out of the way of the beast's snapping jaws, He plunged the sword into its chest.

Something slammed into him from behind, sharp points digging into his back and ripping gashes into his skin, and He pitched forward with a pained yelp. The intense pressure on his back disappeared and He quickly rolled out of the way, hissing in pain as rocks and grit scraped against his open wounds. Powerful, clawed legs slammed into the ground where He had just been, and He bit out a curse as He lunged to the side.

He had been told that there was one wyvern, not two.

The blue-scaled newcomer screeched, the earsplitting sound echoing off the surrounding rock, and dove for the demon. He hurriedly threw up a shield and scrambled back, out of reach of the dying wyvern and the newest threat. The ice shattered, and He barely had time to form a coherent thought before the second wyvern hurtled through the flying shards and raked its claws down his chest. Crying out in pain, He slammed a wall of ice into the creature and sent it flying back.

His gaze dropped to the shadow curled at his feet, and He growled, "Aren't you dying to kill something? Make yourself useful for once."

As if it had been waiting for his command—unlikely, given how ornery and prone to throwing tantrums it could be—the shadow launched itself across the ground and wrapped around the blue wyvern, biting into its wings and dragging them down as it slashed viciously at scale and membrane. Staggering back to his feet, He summoned his curses and hooked into the wyverns' own shadows, tangling the beasts in them.

After that, the ice made short work of them. He stood still for a long moment, staring at the pools of blood congealing around the once-proud beasts' bright scales and listening to the dying echoes of their cries ringing in his ears, and then turned away. Pulling his shirt off and hissing in pain as the fabric stuck to his raw wounds, He covered his injuries with ice and then used the shirt as a makeshift bandage over top.

Two blasted wyverns. This was what He got for doing some stupid human ingrates a favor. He ought to go hunt down those villagers and pay them back for withholding vital information. Dark fury flared to life in his chest, and He ground his teeth together. Worthless little human insects should know better than to challenge him. He would show them why they were foolish to cross him, remind them why they should be afraid.

His shadow writhed in excitement. Kill, kill, kill.

Grimacing, He took a deep breath and tried to tamp down the instinctive rage. These bursts of primal anger and hate had always surfaced from time to time, but they'd become far more frequent and harder to ignore after his seal had snapped and He'd Awakened again. This would always be a part of him, but He certainly hoped that it would settle back down and He'd become better at controlling it again over time. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing to calm himself and let the rage die down.

Let's kill them all, his shadow whispered hopefully.

"No," He mumbled. His shadow hissed in displeasure, resentment radiating from it. He sighed and said, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I make a terrible demon now, and you make a terrible human. No wonder we can't get along."

Opening his eyes, He gave his shadow a hard look until it reluctantly settled back to its normal position and fell still, and then started back down the mountain. He moved slowly, his wounds burning beneath the ice and his exhaustion hanging over him like a cloud, but managed to hobble down the trail with only a few stumbles and missteps.

He got a few odd looks and concerned enquiries as He hobbled back to the nearest town and purchased a train ticket, but He just waved them off with a wan smile and found a seat away from everyone else. Resting his head against the window, He stared out sightlessly and willed the train to go faster as He tried to ignore his throbbing wounds. He was suddenly grateful that this town wasn't very far from Magnolia.

Still, the ordeal seemed to go on forever, a hazy blur of exhaustion and aching pain. And when He finally stumbled off the train and paused outside the station to frown out at the busy street, He quickly realized that his problems weren't over. Normally, He would go back to his apartment, dress his wounds properly, and sleep it all off. That obviously wasn't an option anymore, and He had no choice but to go to the guild and have his friends fuss over him. Joy.

Noticing the nasty, mistrustful looks He was getting from the civilians savvy enough to recognize his face, He worked his way through the crowd to find a shady pathway along the edges of buildings where He could pull the shadows more tightly about himself and conceal himself from a good portion of the glares. He missed the days when He could walk freely through the city instead of always skulking in the shadows.

He slipped into the guild with a sigh and looked around for his old team.

"Geez, what happened to you?" Gajeel asked, noticing him leaning heavily against the doorway with crimson blood seeping through the ragged remains of his shirt. The dragon slayer gave the demon a wary look, but apparently he'd seen fit to temporarily set aside a little of his usual unfriendliness.

"Wyverns," He grunted, starting for the team's table.

"Gray!" Lucy yelped. She jumped to her feet and rushed over to him. "Are you alright? Hey, Wendy! Come here, will you?"

"I'm fine," He grumbled.

Natsu eyed him critically. "You got yourself torn up by a measly wyvern?"

He scowled. "Would've been nice if the villagers had bothered telling me there was a second one lurking around. It would've been harder for it to sneak up behind me that way."

Erza clicked her tongue in disapproval as she looked over his injuries and let her eyes linger a moment too long on the bare stretch of skin where his guild mark should be. It made him wish that He was still wearing a shirt.

"Wyverns aren't a joke," she said. "You should've taken us with you."

Someone was clearly still miffed that He had been avoiding team jobs lately.

"It was only supposed to be one," He said mutinously as Wendy hurried over and began carefully unwrapping his makeshift bandages.

He melted his ice and grudgingly allowed Wendy to heal the gashes with her magic, all the while ignoring Charle's hostile glare burning into him. Once his injuries had faded away, any temporary reprieve from the guild seemed to fade with them. He could feel all the wary, unfriendly looks that half the guild was giving him, could see the disdainful curl to Gajeel's lip and Bisca's death glare as she ushered Asuka away from the area, but He chose to ignore them in favor of thanking Wendy.

"No problem," she said. "You should be more careful, Gray-san. You can die now, you know."

"I'm aware," He grumbled, not willing to admit that sometimes He did seem to forget that for short stretches of time and overestimate how durable He really was now.

"That looked really painful," Lucy said with a sigh. "I sure hope you got paid really well for that."

"Oh yeah."

If nothing else, He'd gotten paid with plenty of aggravation.

"And enough with you running off on solo jobs all the time and getting yourself hurt," Erza said, giving him a hard look. "It's time to start coming with us again."

He fought back his instinctive wince. Part of the reason He'd been ducking out of team jobs was what had just happened back at the village. It was one thing to get run out of towns and do jobs without payment if He was on his own, but He didn't want to bring all that extra hassle onto the team. Nor did He particularly want to deal with his friends' outrage when it happened.

"I don't know," He hedged. "I'm still exhausted from fighting the magical multiplying wyverns."

Erza was not amused. "If you need a day or two to rest, then fine. But soon. You can't avoid us forever."

Try as He might, He couldn't come up with a decent pretext for refusal. Unfortunately, Erza was right. His excuses were already running thin, and He wouldn't be able to put off the team forever.

"Yeah," He mumbled, dropping his gaze.

"Good."

"Do you want to go home and rest?" Happy asked.

He forced a smile. "Nah, I think I'll just hang out here for a while."

After all, it wasn't like He had anywhere to go back to.

emmahoshi: The eviction was originally supposed to be more brutal, but the landlady from "Stay" is now my headcanon whenever I need a landlord for Gray, and I couldn't see her doing it :3 Aw, I wish you the best of luck. Knowing something is temporary can indeed make you form superficial relationships and treat things as if it's just a holding cell until the next part of your life starts, but remember that you can still make the most of it and even short-lived things have the potential to be meaningful :) Plastic surgery XD Yeah, there is actually going to be a team job. Can't put Erza off forever lol As for why Gray hasn't just left...the guild. It's always about the guild with him. Almost everything he does can be traced back to Lyon or the guild. As long as he's turned protecting them into a new purpose and he has nothing else and some of them are so adamant that he stay, he'll have a hard time breaking ties completely.