.

Eight

(In which Lyon has one week to make sure everything is perfect and starts asking questions.)

Everything had to be perfect. Lyon had one week to make sure of it.

He had penned a letter and mailed it back right away, eager to avoid any delays. Assuming everything went well, Gray would be here in a week's time.

Lyon read and reread Gray's letter, studying every word and debating the underlying meaning of each one. There had to be some hint of Gray's state of mind buried in here somewhere, surely. He just couldn't find it. The letter itself was short, even for Gray. There was little beyond a polite inquiry if he might be welcome to visit for a little while, maybe in a week or so.

Lyon didn't understand why now, after all this time. He had been hoping for it, of course, and been disappointed every time he raised the issue only to be politely let down. Gray had always said he wasn't ready. Maybe later. Well, later had apparently come, but Lyon didn't know what had changed.

He could glean nothing of Gray's intentions from his brief letter. Was Gray excited? Nervous? Hopeful? Was he coming back to try rebuilding their fractured relationship, or was he still too angry and hurt? Surely, if he was angry enough to break things off again, he would have just stopped writing rather than go through the trouble of visiting.

Lyon wished he had some clue if Gray was on the same wavelength as him.

There was nothing he could do about that now, though. What he could do was make sure everything was perfect for the visit. Maybe if everything was perfect, Gray would decide to stay this time.

Juvia had already picked up the slack on the housework, so Lyon tidied up the outside of the house while she more or less handled the inside. Then he went through every cabinet and drawer and box, pulling out everything from the old days that he had since packed away: old sketches, crudely carved wooden animals that had been their toys as children, a knitted cap. He examined each item, remembering what it had meant to whom, and decided if and where to display it. He wondered if it would come off a little strong, but he supposed he was desperate. He had already failed to show Gray that he cared. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go a little overboard showing that he did.

He obsessively planned what meals he could cook while Gray was here. No mean feat, considering stew was the pinnacle of his culinary skill. But he bounced ideas off Sherry—who could cook—and tried communicating his thoughts with Juvia. It was hard to tell where Juvia was on the culinary spectrum, but she enjoyed experimenting with different ingredients until she made a delicious meal out of them. They practiced in the evenings, tweaking dishes into something palatable.

Of course, Juvia might be a snag herself. Lyon wasn't sure what Gray would make of her. At best, he'd tease Lyon a bit and make some wisecracks. Or, that was what he would have done in the old days. Lyon wasn't sure if their relationship was at the point where they could maintain the same lighthearted banter of their childhood.

There were only two bedrooms, though. Lyon supposed he'd need to move out to the couch and give Gray his room. Unless Gray decided he didn't want to stay at the house and chose to stay with one of his friends or at the inn in town. The thought twisted Lyon's stomach into knots. He wanted Gray to come home, not to an inn. He would respect Gray's wishes if he didn't feel comfortable living in such close quarters, but he wouldn't like it.

Lyon needed to keep his hands busy with something to prepare for Gray's visit, whether it would actually be useful in the grand scheme of things or not. He fished during the day and prowled the house by night, looking for anything that could be improved upon. The work invited a nostalgia he hadn't realized he was capable of. He'd always considered himself practical and down-to-earth, concerned only with the here and now and the future to a limited degree. He saw no need to dwell on the past or indulge what-ifs. Maybe it was easier that way.

But suddenly the house was full of Gray again, and he brought a shadow of their mother with him. The air was so thick with memories that it was hard to breathe, and Gray hadn't even arrived yet. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling, although a bit suffocating at times. Depending on which memories Lyon uncovered. It was a gold mine strewn through a minefield.

If he was entirely alone, it might have been harder. Luckily, Juvia listened to his stories with interest, and her silence had a way of asking to be filled. He had never realized how many stories he had to tell until he was telling them.

"Gray was really good friends with Natsu, Lucy, and Erza," he said. "Actually, I don't know that he had many close friends besides them, although he had a passing acquaintance with everyone. Small town, you know. He's a bit of a loner. But those four are crazy when you put them in the same room. They used to play make-believe games when they were really little. Natsu would be the dragon, Lucy would be the princess, and Erza and Gray were knights or something. I think sometimes the dragon ate everyone, though. Natsu doesn't believe in losing. He took the dragon thing pretty seriously, too. He would swipe matches and candles, although we didn't find out until they burned down an old shed while playing. He and Gray would get into rough and tumble fights, too. Just messing around, but they'd really go at it. I never saw Gray get as worked up with anyone else, not even me. They always said they weren't friends, but they really got on like a house on fire."

Juvia laughed silently and gestured for him to continue, eyes sparkling.

"Okay, well… He used to hang out with Erza a lot too, but I was never too sure what they were doing. They were the loners of the group. I do know that he used to swipe Lucy's notebooks and read her stories. She hated it. I don't even know how he got his hands on them, but he always did just to bug her. Not sure why—I don't think he ever really had much of an interest in literature. But eventually they started talking about her work and she'd bounce ideas off him. Or that's what I've heard. It was all very hush-hush since Lucy's so secretive about her work."

Later that evening, Lyon was going through some boxes shoved underneath his bed—his mother's, that he had always found it too painful to rifle through—and discovered more carefully preserved memorabilia. He had to laugh when he found old tests and grade reports from their school days.

"Gray was terrible at school," he confided. "I mean, the kid was smart, no doubt about it, but he just wasn't interested. He'd do his work when he felt like it, but he usually didn't. He would doodle all over his papers, too. He was always chewing on an idea or sketching or something. We could never tell what was going on in his head. Anyway, he drove his teachers crazy. He always did well when he did the work, but if you didn't engage his interest, he didn't put in the effort. He was the same way at home, too. You should have seen him the first time he tried to gut a fish…"

Lyon had not-so-happy memories too, although he told those stories in a quieter voice, more to himself than to Juvia.

"He used to cry a lot, when he was younger. He was squeamish with gutting the fish. He got separation anxiety when he was away from our mom too long. He used to be scared of everything, for a while. He skinned his knees a lot. And he'd just cry a lot for no apparent reason. I found it really annoying. So one day I told him to stop being such a pathetic crybaby. I never saw him cry again after that. Not once, until our mom died. He grew up quieter and more reserved. He'd wander off and brood on his own a lot. I didn't really understand that any more than the tears, but it was still something of a relief at the time. But looking back, it was pretty cruel. I don't think he ever showed me as much emotion again. I took something from him, maybe."

Juvia reached over and took his hand, and he startled out of his thoughts. Her eyes were soft with concern.

"Ah, sorry," Lyon said with an awkward laugh. "I'm alright."

Juvia arched one eyebrow and pointed towards the door.

"Is something out there?"

She shook her head and tugged on his hand, rocking a step towards the door.

"You want to go out? You're welcome to, of course, but I have a lot to do. I have to–"

Juvia tugged harder, and Lyon stumbled a step towards the door after her.

"But…" He sighed and looked around the house. "I guess I'm not really doing much of anything, anyway."

He let Juvia pull him outside and followed her down to the beach. He thought that perhaps she intended to collect more shells or something of the sort, but she simply kicked off her shoes and walked along the sea's edge, letting the surf lap at her feet. Lyon followed suit.

They walked along the beach in silence for a few minutes, with only the lapping of the waves and crying of the gulls to disturb the quiet. These sounds were the normal, soothing backdrop of Lyon's life, and they calmed his troubled mind. If he focused on the sounds of the sea and feeling of sand between his toes and cold water running over his feet, he could let his mind go blank and relax.

Then Juvia touched his arm to get his attention and made a circular continue gesture with her hand.

Lyon smiled sheepishly. "Haven't you heard enough stories? I've barely shut up for two days."

Juvia shook her head and smiled, even though Lyon had assumed the point of getting him out here was to distract him.

"He'd kill me if he knew I told you any of this, of course." His smile felt more like a grimace. "He's pretty private."

Juvia drew back and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture that he took to mean never mind, then.

"No, it's okay. I guess I needed to talk to someone. To be honest, I'm pretty nervous about the whole thing. There's a lot riding on this visit. I need it to go well."

He wondered if the reason he told Juvia so many stories was that she conveniently couldn't relate his words to anyone else and would be gone for good in a few weeks. If he was looking for a confidante who wouldn't—or couldn't—possibly betray his confidence, there would be no one more perfect than Juvia.

This thought made him vaguely uncomfortable, but he soothed himself with the fact that he genuinely enjoyed talking to Juvia and she seemed interested in what he had to say.

"Well, Gray used to come out here a lot. To 'think' or just avoid helping with chores. When we were little, we used to play games out here." He looked out at the ocean and smiled at the memory of him and his little brother chasing each other through the waves and building sand castles on the beach. "We'd have contests to see who could build the biggest sand castles. And then to see who could destroy the other's more spectacularly."

Lyon dragged his toes through the wet sand, scraping grooves that the waves would wash away in a moment or two. Nothing permanent lasted out here on the beach: the tides would wash away the most spectacular of sand castles and smallest of footprints.

Gray would remain Lyon's brother, but it was sobering to remember how easily a relationship could be eroded and washed away. Lyon could only hope for the chance to rebuild what he had so carelessly tossed aside.

He remembered finding Gray out here, after. He remembered wading out waist-deep in the water to join his brother in that space between shore and open ocean. He remembered the shouting, the accusations, the heartbreak. He remembered the wild, unmoored look in Gray's eyes, the hitch in his voice, the trembling of his hands. He remembered not caring about any of those things. And he remembered Gray disappearing shortly after, every trace of him washed away like he'd never been there at all.

He started out of his thoughts as Juvia touched his arm again and raised her eyebrows in question. He forced a smile. Maybe there were still some things he didn't want to share, even with the best of confidantes.

"Wish you could tell me more about your sister," he said. He thought he'd done enough reminiscing for today. Besides, it seemed fair to include Juvia in the conversation more, after she'd had to listen to his rambling for so long. "Did you play a lot of games with her when you were younger?"

Juvia nodded but looked away.

Lyon tried engaging her as they strolled down the beach, but he didn't have much luck. Open-ended questions were difficult for her to answer unless there were simple gestures to illustrate the answer. Yes-or-no questions were easier, but required more creativity on Lyon's part as he decided what to ask and how to follow up. They needed to be more specific by necessity, and he just didn't know enough about how selkies lived to come up with the right questions to ask.

Several minutes of questioning turned up very little meaningful information, and the process grew increasingly frustrating. Even Juvia's gestures became abrupt and her eyes stormy with impatience after a few minutes.

"I guess this would be easier if you could talk," Lyon said with a sigh. "Sorry. I just wish you could tell me more about your family and yourself."

Juvia looked away, her lips quirking downwards.

"Sorry," he said again. "I'm sure it must get really frustrating not to be able to communicate very easily. You said you weren't born mute, right? So that must have been a big adjustment."

Juvia gave him a wry half-smile and nodded.

"And it really wasn't an accident or illness?" he asked. When Juvia shook her head, he mused aloud, "Then what else could it be? You just woke up one day and couldn't talk?"

Juvia shrugged, and her gaze skittered away. Lyon dropped the subject. No point pushing her.

But the hint of intrigue and mystery had him thinking back to stories of mermaids exchanging their voices for legs once more. Not that he believed in mermaids or curses or any of that. All he was saying was that in a world where selkies existed, couldn't there be more magic waiting to be discovered?

Lyon went into town the next evening. It had been a long day, and Yuka had grown quite frustrated with his distraction. He couldn't help it, though. Gray was coming home, and Lyon needed everything to be perfect. He could hardly think of anything else.

Yuka had threated to toss him overboard more than once, but Lyon was uncowed. He hopped off the boat as soon as they docked and hurried to town.

"Just go," Yuka grumbled when he offered to help clean up first. "You've been no help at all today. Your head's so far in the clouds that you're more likely to walk off the end of the pier than anything."

Lyon left Yuka and Toby to it. He had to pick up a few odds and ends and was eager to get what he needed and go home to Juvia.

Alas, it was not meant to be. He should have known there would be no such thing as a quick trip into town under these circumstances.

While the errands themselves were quick and painless enough, the people he encountered along the way were more than chatty enough to make up for it. Natsu, Lucy, and Erza stood huddled in the street and spotted him as he tried to slip past.

"Are you all ready for Gray?" Lucy asked cheerfully. Although she'd found the loss of her writing devastating, the news of Gray's return was exciting enough to draw her out of her funk.

"Working on it," Lyon grunted.

He eyed them suspiciously. He was still a little more than half convinced that they had corresponded with Gray on occasion over the years, even if he couldn't prove it. He had pressed them towards the beginning, when Gray had first disappeared in the night and Lyon had no idea if he was safe or not, but they had always denied any knowledge of Gray's intentions or whereabouts.

Still, he wondered if they had known about Gray's impending visit before he did. If they still had some correspondence with Gray, then he might have alerted them of his plans in advance. If so, Lyon would love to pick their brains to see if they had any insight into his intentions or mindset. But their excitement seemed genuine enough, and he couldn't imagine Natsu, in particular, keeping such a big secret without blabbing it to everyone.

"I'm sure it will be great!" Lucy said. "It will be nice to see him again. It's been a long time."

"I can't wait to pound his face in for running off on us," Natsu said with a grin, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Lyon eyed him in alarm. Fisticuffs did not rank as perfect in his handbook.

"Don't chase him off as soon as he gets here!" he said in dismay.

Natsu rolled his eyes. "He'll just hit me back."

Lyon was not convinced. Maybe Gray and Natsu had scuffled in the past, but they had been kids. They were now adults—at least technically, if not in spirit or maturity. Natsu still acted like an overgrown child, but Gray had been quiet and serious when Lyon met with him last. Lyon wasn't entirely sure how much his brother had grown up when he wasn't watching.

"No fighting," Erza said sternly. Natsu quailed under her glare. "Friends shouldn't fight. Anyway, we'll be celebrating! I'm trying out a bunch of new recipes to make him the perfect welcome-home cake."

Lyon inched his way past the group and left them to their discussion. They were welcome to make their own plans, as long as they didn't interfere with his.

"Hey!" Natsu called after him. "Don't mess it up this time!"

Lyon turned back to fix him with an icy glare. "I don't intend to," he said stiffly. "And don't you start a brawl with him."

"Natsu will be on his best behavior," Erza said with a meaningful look at Natsu. "Don't stress too much. I'm sure it will go well. It will be great to see him again."

Lyon mumbled his agreement, although he knew he would still stress out over everything involving Gray.

"Say hi to Juvia for us too, won't you?" Lucy added. "I bet Gray would be interested to meet her."

Gray would be interested alright, but Lyon wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Waving halfheartedly at Gray's old friends, he hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Sherry was at the front of the shop today, thumbing through ledgers and taking inventory.

"Lyon, there you are!" she said, putting down her pen. "Been busy getting ready for Gray? Exciting, isn't it? How have preparations been going?"

Lyon offered a short account of his preparatory activities, leaving out Juvia's contributions. If Sherry noticed the omission, she didn't comment.

"Anyway," he added, "I was hoping you could mend a few things for me? I know it's short notice, but…"

"Of course!" she said, grabbing for the bag he'd brought with him. She dumped the shirts and trousers on the counter and went through them with practiced fingers, seeming to find holes and torn seams with some hidden sixth sense. "You never mend your clothes. It's about time you're finally letting me have a go at them."

This was a slight exaggeration, but not by much. Lyon had never been too careful with his clothing, and he didn't mind if they picked up a split seam or threadbare patch here and there. If the damage was especially bad, he might cut out a patch from whatever he had lying around that was too ruined to be saved and slap it over the hole. Sherry took special offense to these sloppily attached scraps. She could do better, if only he ever thought to go to her for assistance.

"I don't need all of them right away," Lyon said. "I just need a few nice things to wear before Gray gets here."

"I can't wait to tear off these hideous patches and fix them right." Sherry paused, a frown tugging at her lips as she rubbed fabric between her fingers. "These aren't all yours, are they?"

"Some of them are Gray's," Lyon admitted, flushing. "I mean, I don't know if they'll fit him anymore and I'm sure he has plenty of his own clothing, but I figured it couldn't hurt to fix them up. Just in case."

"That's very thoughtful of you," she said gently. "You're a good brother. I'm sure Gray will see that too. I'll have everything ready before he gets here."

Lyon thanked her and escaped, feeling vaguely uncomfortable about the whole thing. Shaking it right out of his head, he headed for the grocery store to pick up some food for meals. It seemed like someone stopped him every ten feet to ask how he was doing and when Gray would arrive or express their excitement that the town's prodigal son was returning. Everyone wanted to speculate on what Gray had been up to and how he had changed and if he might decide to move back home.

Lyon was not anxious to field these inquiries and gossip. They meant well, but he didn't like the feeling of being examined under a microscope. He was polite—or polite enough—but quickly deflected these overtures and hurried on. He'd had more than enough practice politely shutting down nosy neighbors.

He was quite successful until he ran into Zeref ambling down the street. The old man was a bit of a recluse and had a hint of mystery hanging about him that invited speculation and had made him something of a children's legend over the years.

Zeref did not ask after Gray or, in fact, hail Lyon at all. He was not known for his chattiness. Lyon did not intend to strike up a conversation, but then he recalled the rumors about Zeref having once married and then lost a selkie.

Lyon's feet slowed to a stop, and he hesitated there in the street. He didn't know what information Zeref might actually be able to give him, but he'd already exhausted his resources at the pub. Zeref's tale had been told and retold so many times that it had attained almost legendary status. He was considered something of a selkie expert, or at least assumed to be familiar with the creatures' workings.

Lyon had never paid too much attention to stories and tall tales, but now he wished he had. All he remembered was that Zeref was rumored to have caught and married a selkie as a young man. Supposedly, it was a happy enough marriage before she found her skin and disappeared back out to sea. There were just enough of the old generation who remembered the girl to make the tale seem plausible, if not entirely proven. Lyon had never thought much of it, but somehow the idea seemed less ridiculous than it had a couple of weeks ago.

"Good evening," he said.

Zeref inclined his head. Lyon expected him to keep walking, but Zeref stopped and fixed him with an expectant look. Lyon opened his mouth, but couldn't quite make himself ask the question perched on the tip of his tongue. There was really no tactful way to broach the subject, and he wasn't sure how to do it without giving away too much. He backed off, as usual.

"Excuse me," he murmured, inching past. "I'm just heading to the grocery."

"Preparing for Gray's visit?" Zeref asked, polite but not overly interested.

"Yes," Lyon said, surprised he knew that much and was prolonging the conversation.

"Even an old man hears things through the grapevine," Zeref said. "For instance, I've also heard a rumor that you caught yourself a selkie."

Lyon stiffened. He couldn't quite believe Zeref would so brazenly introduce the topic he was dancing around. Although Zeref's voice suggested no more than polite indifference, his gaze was sharp as he gauged Lyon's reaction.

Lyon coughed out a laugh that sounded nervous and strained even to his own ears. "Oh, you know how people are around here. Always looking for some good gossip to–"

"Save it," Zeref said flatly, unimpressed. "I dropped by Sherry's party long enough to get a look. I know a selkie when I see one."

Lyon opened his mouth, but he didn't know how to refute such a confident accusation. He had the sinking feeling that further protestations would not work, either because Zeref knew the truth or was positively convinced that he did. Zeref wore the expression of a man whose mind was made up and who wasn't intending to change it.

The sound that finally escaped Lyon's mouth sounded a lot like "Uh…"

A hint of amusement flickered at the corners of Zeref's mouth. "So, what's your plan for the selkie?"

"Uh…" Lyon said again. He darted a quick look around to make sure no nosy passersby were within earshot, but he suspected it only made him look more shifty.

"Goodness, no need to be shy," Zeref said. "I'm not going to spread your business around town."

Lyon gave up. This seemed like a battle he was destined to lose, and he was no martyr.

"She's just staying until her ankle heals," he said. "I felt bad because I startled her and she broke her ankle in the rocks. Once she's healed up and can swim again, she's free to go."

"It sounds like she's already stayed for a few days. Do you have her skin?"

Lyon didn't want to answer that, but his awkward silence seemed to be answer enough.

"But she's leaving soon?" Zeref asked skeptically.

"I'll give it back once she's healed enough. She couldn't resist the pull of the ocean, but she can't swim properly right now."

"You're just going to let her go?"

"Of course."

"Hm," Zeref said. The skepticism did not fade from his eyes. "Easier said than done, I suppose. Even the best intentions can be led astray."

Lyon narrowed his eyes. "I'm not–"

"Peace, boy. I don't want a fight. Just a word of caution: be careful. Things with selkies are never simple."

Lyon wanted to protest or maybe ask about Zeref's own experiences with selkies, but the old man was already turning away. Message delivered, he seemed to have lost interest.

"Wait!" Lyon said, afraid of missing his chance. "The selkie, she's mute. Is that normal?"

Zeref turned back and raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it."

"Do you know what the problem might be? She said she wasn't born that way and didn't have an accident, but she clams up if I press much further. I'm not sure if she doesn't want to say or if there might…be another explanation."

"What do you care?" Zeref asked bluntly. "You're letting her go, aren't you? It won't matter then. If she seems uncomfortable, maybe you should let it go. What 'other' explanation were you thinking of?"

Lyon didn't think it was silly to care about someone you would only know for a short time, but he saw Zeref's point. There was nothing he could do to solve that particular problem, and perhaps the point would become moot in a week or two when he returned Juvia's skin and never saw her again. Perhaps it made sense to let the matter rest.

Still, as long as she was in his house and under his care, he felt responsible for exploring all the options to see if there was any way he could help, even if it was as simple as bringing her seashells or introducing her to companions that could chase away the loneliness for a few minutes. Even once she was gone, he knew that he would always wonder about her.

"Well…" he said. He felt his face heating again. He'd found no way to make his half-baked conspiracy theories sound less crazy. "I don't know…"

"Spit it out. It's obvious you've got something, and I don't have all day."

"Just… There are stories about mermaids trading their voices for legs. Just tall tales, obviously, but selkies are real enough. Do you think some kind of curse might be too?"

Zeref's brows furrowed. "Like magic?"

Lyon shifted uneasily, wishing he hadn't opened his mouth. "Well, I wouldn't say exactly–"

"I wouldn't know. I've only really dealt with one selkie, so I'm not the expert you seem to think I am. Mavis never wanted to talk about the sea, even when it was eating at her." Zeref's eyes softened to a faraway look that Lyon interpreted as reminiscence or nostalgia, but he pressed on without acknowledging it. "I've never heard anything about curses, not from credible sources, but I suppose anything is possible."

"It seems silly," Lyon demurred, although he was the one who had raised the idea.

"Perhaps. Still, there are things we don't understand in this world. You didn't believe in selkies until you met one, did you? Who knows what else might be out there?"

"I suppose…" Lyon looked back across the street, where he could just make out the tip of the church's small steeple poking out from the sea of roofs. Talking about magic seemed vaguely sacrilegious. His belief might have strayed or faltered at times over the years, but it was not something he had ever abandoned entirely.

"God works in mysterious ways," Zeref said, as if reading his thoughts. "But if you're looking for answers about selkies, I would suggest asking Bisca."

"Bisca?"

"Yes." Zeref turned away and ambled back down the street. "If anyone would know, it's her."

Lyon watched the old man's retreat, brows drawn together in bewilderment. Out of all the selkie stories that had floated around town over the years, Bisca had never been linked to any of them. She was possibly the last person he would think to ask.

And, he remembered suddenly, she seemed to have taken a recent disliking to him for no reason he could fathom. Groaning, he shook his head and started on his way again. He was heading to the grocer's anyway, and was likely to run into her there. Broaching the topic would be more difficult, and he wasn't sure it was even a good idea when she had been acting so strangely towards him.

When he walked into the store, Bisca was behind the counter. Her expression shuttered to cool politeness when she spotted him, the smile slipping from her face.

"Good evening," she said.

"Ah… Hello. I just needed to pick up a few things."

"What can I help you with?"

"Actually…" Lyon shifted on his heels and cleared his throat. "Have I offended you? If I've wronged you, I'd like to apologize."

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed and ran a hand over her face. "No, Lyon. It's fine."

"Are you sure? Because I really think I've done something to–"

"It's the selkie. I don't like that you're keeping a selkie, that's all. You're a good kid, I'm sure you mean it when you say you'll let her go once she's healed, but… I'll feel better once she's gone."

Lyon opened his mouth to protest, but caught saw the conviction lining her face and changed his mind. "Ah," he said again, a bit sheepishly. "Actually, Zeref told me to talk to you about selkies. I thought it seemed like an odd choice, but maybe you do know something."

Bisca stiffened, and her eyes narrowed to slits. "Zeref? What did he say about me?"

Lyon took an instinctive half-step back, taken aback by the vehemence of her reaction. "Nothing, really. Just that if I had questions about selkies, you'd be the best one to ask. I don't know why he'd think that."

"What kind of questions?"

"Oh, just… Juvia is mute, you know. She said she wasn't born that way and there wasn't an accident or illness, so I was wondering if there might be another explanation."

Bisca stared at him, a muscle working in her jaw, and then cast a look over her shoulder. "Alzack!" she called. "Don't you think it's about time to take Asuka home? I think she's getting tired."

Her husband popped his head out of the backroom. "You're releasing me from work early? To what do I owe the pleasure? Oh, hello, Lyon."

"Hello…" Lyon said.

"Just get her something to eat," Bisca said. "She keeps getting underfoot, and she's getting cranky."

On cue, Asuka darted out from behind her father. "Look at me!" she said, twirling in wild circles, arms flailing.

"Before she cracks her head open."

Alzack chuckled and scooped the girl up, depositing her on his shoulders as she squealed with laughter. "Come on, Asuka. Why don't we get you some dinner?"

He gave Bisca a peck on the cheek and strolled out of the shop, Asuka clinging to his neck and tugging at his hair.

Bisca waited until they'd gone to turn back to Lyon. "Listen," she said. "I don't know why Zeref would send you here instead of minding his own business, but I'm only going to tell you this because I think it's a problem. Selkies belong first to the sea. It runs in our blood. Human nature comes second, always. If you keep that girl trapped here without her consent, she will wither. Even when we choose to stay, the sea always calls us. You need to let her go before you get too attached."

Lyon frowned. "We?" he repeated. Bisca fixed him with a flat, unfriendly gaze. His eyes widened. "You're…? But that's… Really?"

"If you tell anyone, I swear I will drown you."

Lyon gaped some more, mind reeling. "Alzack…?"

"I chose to stay," she said shortly. "I'm happy here. Most of us would not choose to stay away from the sea. We can't give it up so easily. It calls to me even now, you understand? Whatever game you're playing with Juvia, you need to be careful or someone is going to get hurt. It's best not to steal skins that don't belong to you."

"I don't… I just need her to stay long enough to heal, and then she's free to go."

"So you keep saying, but you wouldn't be the first to change his mind."

"I won't… And you would still go back to sea if you found your skin? Even if you had to leave Asuka and Alzack?"

"Of course," she said. "That's how it works. I do my best not to go looking, and Alzack makes sure it's hidden well. But if I find it, I'm gone. On the worst days, I beg him to give it to me, but he knows he'd never see me again if he did. I want to be here, with him, and raise my daughter. That's the path I chose. But you understand, keeping a selkie is never that simple. Even if you keep Juvia, even if she decided she wanted to stay, her heart would still belong to the sea."

Lyon couldn't believe it. Could he really have missed a selkie living next door? And Bisca? He had never interacted with her much outside grocery transactions and a little polite chitchat, but now he ran back over their encounters in his mind and tried to think if there was any sign he might have missed. He couldn't come up with one. Even staring at her now, he only saw a normal woman.

"Is there, like, some kind of magic or rules or something for that?" he asked. "I mean, everyone says that if a selkie finds her skin, she has to–"

"There are things you don't need to know," she said flatly. "I don't think you're a bad person, but there are people who would use intimate knowledge like that to ensnare selkies if they got a hold of it. Some things are not for humans to understand. All you need to know is that a selkie always leaves if they find their skin."

Lyon supposed he couldn't blame her for wanting to protect her kind. Judging from all the stories of men sneaking down to the beach to capture selkies, he could imagine that the wrong person could use the wrong knowledge for the wrong purpose. Unfortunately, that meant she might not tell him what he needed to know.

"Oh," he said. "I guess maybe you couldn't tell me about the muteness, then?"

"What about it?"

"Is it common among selkies? Or is there any kind of…magic that could cause it?"

Bisca wrinkled her nose. "Don't worry about magic. It's not of the human realm. But no, muteness is not common. I've never seen it in our colony, nor have I heard of anything of a 'magical' nature that would cause it. The only reason I'm telling you any of this is to warn you to be careful. I saw Juvia when you brought her into town. There's something not right about her."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged and scowled. "I don't know, exactly. Something is just…off. She's not like the selkies I know. If anything, she's too…human. And something is just strange. I can't put my finger on it."

"Might she have just come from a different…colony? Maybe different groups of selkies are different?"

Bisca gave him a look that made him feel very small and stupid. "Of course different colonies are different. But this is…more different. Maybe it's nothing. She might just be a bit of an outsider. I'm just saying, the sooner she goes back to sea, the better."

Lyon wasn't sure what to make of that, and thought it seemed a bit dramatic. "Do you think maybe you could try talking with her?" he asked. "Maybe you could communicate with her better and figure out what's off?"

"Absolutely not." Bisca crossed her arms over her chest. "I will not involve myself. I make it a point not to associate with my kind, or it will make the call of the sea unbearable. Better to stay firmly in the human world if I want to be human. And I don't like her."

Silly though it might be, Lyon was almost more surprised by that statement than by even Bisca's big revelation. He couldn't think of anyone who didn't like Juvia. It seemed that everyone liked her right from the start. Even Sherry only had a problem because of her jealousy.

"But–"

"I do not want to be involved in this scheme of yours," Bisca repeated firmly. "Don't drag me or my family into it, and don't go running your mouth when you shouldn't."

"Of course not. I won't tell anyone."

"And Lyon? Be careful with her."

Lyon was already halfway home by the time he realized he hadn't gotten his groceries, and by then he wasn't sure he wanted to go back and face Bisca again.

"How much do you really know about her?" Sherry had asked.

And the truth was, now that Lyon really thought about it, almost nothing at all.