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The Last of Us
Chapter 6

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Each droplet of rain alighted on Juvia's skin was just enough coolness to command her mind to the present. It pulled her thoughts away from the pain of the past few days and the uncertainty of what was to come. She tilted her umbrella back, raising her eyes to the gray layer of clouds that blocked out the midday sun, promising the storm would continue well into the evening.

Juvia frowned. This time she wasn't the cause of the weather. Her emotions had gotten the better of her after the news of their guildmates' deaths. It had been a while since she had allowed Gloomy Juvia to be in charge of her existence. Now, her despair was evident in her tears rather than the rain. Sunny days were best for healing broken hearts, she had learned since her days serving in Phantom Lord. But Mother Nature had a cruel sense of humor.

She reaffirmed her umbrella overhead. From the bench she sat upon, she had a perfect view of the apartment building across the street. The double hung windows three stories up had remained dark all day.

"Hey, Juvia." Blue eyes turned to her right to see Gajeel walking toward her, Panther Lily perched on his shoulder with paws over his ears, shuddering when a clap of thunder echoed in the distance. "What are you doin' out here?"

She shrugged, granting him a smile. "Just enjoying the rain."

Panther Lily studied the path of her sight to the complex. "I-Isn't that Gray's apartment?"

"Tch." Gajeel folded his arms over his chest, glancing between the apartment and the bench he was sure Juvia had been occupying for hours. He gave her a disapproving look. "Don't tell me you're waiting out here in the rain for him."

Juvia bit the inside of her cheek, shame pulling her gaze to the glistening walkway. Her pulse began to quicken, her fingers fidgeting in her lap with the fabric of the dark overcoat she wore. It wasn't the first time Gajeel had chastised her for her overt adoration for the ice-make wizard. From the moment he had joined her at Fairy Tail, Gajeel had caught onto her little infatuation. She had done her best to tone down her attempts at grabbing Gray's attention, but she admitted it was difficult to do. She had been immersed in gloom her entire life, and within a few moments of meeting, Gray had somehow managed to stop the rain.

"He's-He's hurting," she tried to explain, her cheeks flushing with her poor attempt at persuasion. "Juvia doesn't know how to help him."

Gajeel's carmine eyes considered her carefully. Juvia had always been a woman whose emotions were easily rattled. She had more self-doubt than anyone else he knew. The water mage had always excelled in her magic wielding, but when it came to holding onto a relationship, she floundered. Her excitement of sharing a bond with another person was often perceived as overzealous and, to be frank, annoying. He didn't blame Fullbuster for behaving toward her the way he did.

That being said, it still irked Gajeel that Juvia had been left out in the rain. "You can't help someone who doesn't want it." He took a seat beside her and laid his arms across the back of the bench. Juvia tilted her umbrella over him to share as Pantherlilly cowered under the bench beneath them. "I say leave him be. He'll work it out in his own time."

"Juvia's not so sure he will."

Growing up in Phantom Lord, she and Gajeel had both come from backgrounds of abandonment, and had learned they both coped with adversity in similar matters - quietly shutting away their pain and simply shouldering through whatever blocked their path. It granted them the building blocks to what had now become a close friendship. She would never wish to change her past because it had led her to her present, and yet, she knew her path had been more difficult than others.

Juvia had only been a part of Fairy Tail for a short time. She had heard snippets of her guildmates' hardships and struggles, but she didn't truly know the extent of the scars on their hearts. Yet, the atmosphere in Fairy Tail was so different from what she knew in Phantom Lord. Just like Gray had brought out the sun, Fairy Tail had done the same to her overall outlook. Where in the past she was expected to carry her afflictions by herself, now she had friends who outwardly welcomed to share her burdens, because that's what it meant to be part of a family.

She sniffled, eyes turning to the dark windows three stories above. She had attempted to speak to Gray several times since everything happened. Each time, he had shot down her efforts. Consoling others during a time of trife had never been her forte, so she was honestly lost on what to do. Gray hadn't been very approachable. The ice-make mage had almost literally become a block of ice - sharp, cold, unyielding. After drowning his sorrows with the bitter taste of alcohol, he had shut himself away in his apartment. It made her feel uneasy and worried about his state of mind.

"He's lost three very important people in his life," she said, her grip on her umbrella tightening. "Friends he grew up with. They laughed together. Fought together. Cried together. Juvia can't imagine what he's going through."

Gajeel stayed silent as the rain continued to fall. He supposed he couldn't empathize with what the rest of the guild was going through. After all, besides Metallicana and Juvia, he had never shared a deep bond with anyone - and Metallicana had disappeared without a trace. If he had lost Juvia, or even Panther Lily, he supposed he would be pretty fucked up, too. Even still.

He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "Well, he obviously didn't invite you in, considering you're out here."

"Gajeel!" Panther Lily scolded, popping his head up from beneath the bench to glare at the dragon slayer.

"You're right," Juvia murmured before Gajeel had to defend his statement. "Gray hasn't spoken much to Juvia since that night."

He frowned and looked over at her with steely eyes. "Why do you continue doing this to yourself? Why do you continue to put yourself through this for him when he doesn't even give you the time of day?"

She granted him a shaky smile. "If you're not willing to love someone through their struggles, you don't deserve them during their joys."

As if agreeing with her words, lightning struck, a brilliant shock of white in the graphite sky. For a brief moment, it lit up the street, and Juvia could swear she saw someone in the apartment window three stories up looking back at her.

Romeo wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that the guildhall had regressed into the silence they had suffered through for seven years, or that it had ever been gifted with ebullient chaos again. A wound that had been meagerly healed by immeasurable tears and fruitless anger, had suddenly been ripped open, serrated edges destroying any scar tissue that had formed. All the effort the Tenrou Team had put into winning the Grand Magic Games seemed to have been for nothing. The pain and loneliness of those left behind seven years ago was as palpable now as it was three months ago.

He clenched his hand around the orange scarf draped around his neck. A world without Natsu had been a hard concept to accept when the dragon slayer had disappeared with the rest of the guild's powerhouses. After all, Natsu always had and always could defeat any enemy that had dared stepped into his bad graces. It was difficult to believe that Romeo's hero had so easily been wiped from existence with no rhyme or reason. No one knew of the dragon attack on Tenrou Island until the spell had lifted and the Tenrou Team could recount the events to those left behind.

And then Romeo had watched as Natsu dominated Sabertooth during the games, and spear-headed a rescue mission against the Royal Army. Natsu had even managed to find a way to destroy the Eclipse Gate when the twelve keys of the zodiac and two celestial wizards couldn't, a feat that brought them victory against several dragons. In Romeo's eyes, Natsu was invincible. Unbeatable. Indestructible.

Unbidden tears burned his eyes. After everything Romeo had witnessed while being a part of Fairy Tail, he truly believed that nothing could ever destroy the heart of their guild, because Natsu would always be there to fight and protect those he held dear.

Until, he wasn't.

"He's not gone, stop saying that!" His voice cracked, his fists curled.

Just like when they learned of the disappearance of Tenrou Island, Romeo's first instinct was to blatantly deny the reports. He refused to give any merit to the master's claims that Natsu was dead. Natsu had survived a dragon strike. Romeo couldn't fathom that a measly demon from the Books of Zeref could be the end of the dragon slayer he held in such high regard. A world without Natsu was impossible to compute, impossible to bear. It couldn't be true - he'd never even had the chance to say goodbye, or tell him all of the things he had always admired about him.

And then the Thunder Legion brought the team home, further confirming what Romeo tried to contest. The following days brought mourning and the funeral. The Request Board became empty, the guild members looking more like skeletons than wizards. Demons had killed their family and escaped to who knows where. Meanwhile, his father and Wakaba were sharing drinks and cigars. Bisca and Alzack were doing their best to distract Asuka. Vijeeter stopped dancing. Nab hadn't picked up a book in days. No one laughed or started fist fights. It was all so wrong.

"This is wrong," Romeo murmured under his breath.

Macao set his mug down on the table and raised a brow. "What was that, Son?"

He clenched his hand into a fist and slammed it on the table, startling those who sat closest to him. "This is all wrong!"

"What are you talking about?" Wakaba pulled a deep puff from his cigar.

Romeo suddenly stood, dark eyes ablaze with fury. "Everything! Why are we just sitting around?! We should be going after the demons who-who-"

"No." Macao's tone left no room for argument, his signature guild master voice that conveyed his authority. Romeo hated when his father spoke like that. After the brutality they had gone through under the thumb of Twilight Ogre, Romeo had lost respect for that voice. "We're not going after anyone."

"But why?!" Romeo argued. "If Natsu was here-"

"Well, he isn't," Macao hollered back. "So forget it."

The argument pulled Bisca's attention away from Asuka in her lap. She frowned, watching the storm of emotions wage within Romeo. A boy whose passion and spirit that were just as robust as Natsu's was - had been - threatened to spill over to the rest of them. His vigor could be contagious, if the resolve behind it didn't waver, but Romeo was still just a boy.

"It's not that we don't want to," Bisca attempted to soothe the young wizard's ire.

"Then why?" Romeo cried out, his tears finally coming to fruition. "What's stopping us?"

Wakaba sighed. "You're too young to understand. This isn't a job request or the Grand Magic Games."

Alzack rested a hand over Azuka, her bright eyes peering up at him. "Going after the demons would mean war," he explained gently. "And the battlefield is no place for inexperienced wizards or those without a strategy. We have to trust that the master knows what he's doing."

Romeo gritted his teeth. Trust in the master? He wanted to. He always had. But Makarov had been missing in action since the funeral; he remained holed up in his office with no explanation. He offered no hope that they would prevail, no solace for how they were to overcome this grief, and no plan as to how they would get revenge.

In Romeo's eyes, Makarov had turned into a coward. How was he supposed to trust in that?

The days following Natsu's death were the hardest Lucy had ever been through. The worst part about every day was the morning. Each night, while she tossed and turned in fits of nightmares, she replayed that day out on the battlefield. And every morning, she would wake up and her heart would break all over again as she reminded herself that her nightmares were real.

Natsu was gone. Erza and Happy were gone. And they were never coming back.

Lucy stared at her ceiling as the midday sun streamed through her curtains. Her keys laid neglected on her desk, scattered with her writing tools she hadn't touched in a long time. She could faintly hear murmured conversations from people walking by on the street below her apartment window, but otherwise she had shut out the rest of the world.

She sighed, glancing at the disarray of her room. It seemed as if Natsu and Happy had come barreling into her living quarters uninvited and had made themselves at home for weeks. Her laundry needed to be done. Her cabinets had run out of dishes to hold, finding a new home in the sink. Blankets lay haphazardly on the floor and the couch, evidence of Lucy attempting to find a place of comfort to no avail.

"Good afternoon, Princess," Virgo greeted as Lucy became distantly aware of the slight pull on her magic that signaled the maid spirit was around.

Lucy turned on her side with her back to her, curling further into her bedding. She shivered, clutching her heavy duvet tightly around her, but she was still cold. Ever since Natsu's death, it was like she couldn't get warm.

Her appetite had dwindled down to nothing. Her heartache had rung her out until she was dry inside, and no more tears would come. Her insides still felt as raw as if winter wind was blowing right through her skin. The last conversation she shared with Natsu haunted her, tormented her, replaying like an echo. She vividly remembered his expression twisted into one of pain that night before the mission, as he confessed his deepest fears to her. How was it that only hours later he was dead?

The quiet clinking of dishes stopped an hour later as Virgo finished tending to the household chores. "I'll be leaving now," she announced, but Lucy ignored her.

She finally drifted into a fitful doze as she felt Virgo return to the spirit world.

The slight distortion in the air was the only warning Makarov received before he found Doranbolt, Head of a Division of the Rune Knights, standing before him in his office. News of Fairy Tail losing three of its wizards in battle had quickly made its way to the Magic Council. Whenever a wizard died in conflict or of unnatural causes, it had to be reported to the Council for an investigation. This incident in particular had everyone on edge. It had been decades since such a tragedy had befallen a single guild.

"Doranbolt," Makarov greeted with a hardened gaze. "I was wondering when the Council would send someone."

He stepped forward and set a small file on Makarov's desk. "Our investigation remains ongoing regarding Tartaros, but I figured I'd give you an update."

The guild master hummed as he began scanning the documents. He had clued the Council in on Lucy's admission, as going up against a dark guild would need all the intelligence he could gather. Most of the documents had been redacted due to containing sensitive information, but what was available to read was not much more than what he already knew. "This is hardly worthy of investigational praise," Makarov stated dryly as he pulled his eyes away from the pages and leveled Doranbolt with a glare.

Doranbolt frowned. "Tartaros has always been one step ahead of the Council. And as you know, the Council isn't exactly swift on looking into the more dubious tasks."

"Dubious?" Makarov echoed. "Every dark guild fears Tartaros. What could be dubious about that?"

He curled his hands into fists. "They fear a guild with no evidence or merit to show. There's no paper trail that even confirms Tartaros's existence. At least, none in our records. Since the Council first became aware of Tartaros, nearly no new information has been found. They've always been more of a scary bedtime story than an actual threat."

Makaro've anger was palpable. "Do you believe they are a threat now?!"

"Of course," Doranbolt replied, swallowing thickly. "The Magic Council takes this attack on Fairy Tail wizards as an attack on the entire magical community. They aren't taking this lightly. That being said, information won't suddenly become available just because we need it to."

"Then why not interrogate these dark guilds that fear Tartaros so much?" Makarov demanded, his voice raising with indignation. "Surely they have more information than you bumbling council fools."

"Watch your tongue, Makarov," Doranbolt snapped, his hand resting over the crest imbued on his chest.

"My children are dead," he reminded with a dangerous tone. "And those responsible owe us retribution."

Doranbolt studied the old guild master thoughtfully. Fairy Tail had caused a fair amount of trouble over the years, Titania and Salamander specifically, but never did any of the council members wish them death. After seeing them participate in the Grand Magic Games, Doranbolt understood their tenacious spirits and headstrong attitudes. Not to mention all the help they provided when going up against the Oracion Seis, Grimoire Heart, and the dragon attack on Fiore Kingdom.

The continent of Ishgar owed Fairy Tail a large debt, one that they may never be able to repay. Before being returned to his cell, Cobra had mentioned that the gates of the Netherworld were about to open. Is this new development with Tartaros what he could've meant?

"Obtaining that information is out of my jurisdiction," Doranbolt began slowly. Mentioning the information Cobra dropped was not something he was ready to reveal just yet. Lahar wouldn't approve of him meddling with the council's doings, but Doranbolt wasn't about to stand by and helplessly watch people die. Not again. "But I can see what I can do." He disappeared in a flash, giving Makarov no time to respond.

Makarov exhaled deeply, feeling his age as his anger melted away. He was getting too old for this. Exhaustion didn't even begin to describe what he felt the past few days. Settling back in his chair, he turned his gaze to his office window at the late afternoon skies. He stroked his mustache thoughtfully, mind turning over the visit from Doranbolt. The teleporter had bent the rules in the past regarding moral obligation. Makarov only hoped putting his faith in him again would not backfire. The fight ahead of them would not be easy, but he knew every detail he obtained regarding the wretched dark guild would be a step toward victory.

His office door opened and shut behind him, and he swiveled to see his old friend giving him an accusing gaze.

"What is it, Porlyusica?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk.

She studied him a moment, and then, "I could never understand your love for those brats. Mankind is such an insufferable species."

He smiled. "And yet, you've become quite fond of one of them, haven't you?"

She scowled at his mention of Wendy, the only human she remotely liked. "Makarov, you have always been a man of action," she pointed out, their long history coming to mind. "So, why is it that when three of your children have been killed, you have locked yourself away in your office while the rest of your guild grieves?"

All humor disappeared from his expression, and he glared at her. "I don't appreciate you questioning my motives," he grumbled. "I'm very well aware of the circumstances."

Porlyusica pursed her lips. "You know who killed them," she announced, able to see right through his tactics. "But you haven't told the others. Why?"

"Because it's Tartaros."

She narrowed her eyes, now fully understanding his hesitation. "I see." Her gaze roamed over the messy disarray of his office, where he had practically lived for the past few days. Knowing why he had been so adamant about keeping this piece of information a secret, she could appreciate his seclusion. However, "An obsession like this isn't healthy."

He suddenly pounded his fist on his desk, causing the wood to splinter. His dark eyes glared daggers, palpable rage filling his expression. "They killed my children!" he roared, all pretense of quiet conversation lost. "I'll be damned if I don't return the favor." His shoulders shuddered with his fury as he seethed.

There was something about Makarov's reaction that had Porlyusica tightening her grip on her medicine bag. His character had always been true in nature and absolute. But this time, she knew the danger ahead was very real and there would be no convincing him otherwise that he shouldn't go into this battle. "You're an old fool," she murmured as she turned to take her leave. As her hand moved to pull open the door, she turned to look over her shoulder. "Make sure you don't die."

And before he could promise her he would be cautious, she had gone, surrendering an old man to his thoughts.

After Porlyusica left Makarov's office, she made her way through the main hall of the guild, eager to return to the East Forest. She had had her fill of human interaction for a while, and hoped she wouldn't need to be called on again anytime soon.

"Grandeeny, wait!"

Pausing to glance over her shoulder, the medicinal advisor took note of the little dragon slayer who she admittedly had become attached to. "I've told you not to call me that."

Wendy looked up at her with wide, brown eyes. "Are you leaving?"

She sighed, adjusting her cloak around her shoulders before turning to address the child. "There is nothing left for me to do here. Heartache is one thing I can't fix."

"Can't you stay?" she asked, tears in her eyes as she looked up at the woman who reminded her so much of her mother.

Porlyusica studied her closely, feeling pity for Wendy and everything she had been through at such a young age. She rested a gentle hand on her head. "Listen well, child. For a wound to heal, you have to clean it out. Over and over again. This cleaning process stings, as the cleaning of a wound hurts." She tilted her head thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes. "Healing takes so much work. So much persistence. And so much patience. But, every process has an end and an appointed term. Your healing will come. And like all created things, someday your pain will only be a dull ache in your memory."

Tears filled Wendy's eyes as she sniffled. With a final pat on her head, Porlyusica turned to take her leave. Her words were left in the space between them, a young dragon slayer holding onto them with every ounce of strength she had left. Because for the first time since that day, there was a small shred of hope peeking its way through.