oblivion
chapter one: the ghost of fairy tail
The only place the celebrated reckless didn't touch in the whole guild was jīchan's office. For Miyako's childhood, the small room with its tatty couch and hand-crotched blanket, its soapy butterscotch smell and sounds of jīchan's quill scratching out apology letters to clients and the magic council alike, was her safe-haven. A place where her books wouldn't be scorched or frostbitten (both often occurring within the span of several seconds), and she could immerse herself in their words without fear of her surroundings suddenly turning into a warzone.
Miyako was aware that new guild members often thought she was a phantom that roamed the forbidden second floor. She'd heard the rumors. That the blonde-haired girl who flitted about the shadows stole an S-Class mission and never made it home, and was now cursed with the duty of scaring off mages who had similar delusions of grandeur and sticky, thieving fingers. Another tall tale said that she was the spirit of the first master, still lingering in this world and searching for fairies. Miyako liked that story best. The first one was honestly quite insulting. She had no need of stealing S-Class jobs. She was an S-Class mage.
True, as she got older, and gained a reputation befitting a mage her status, the rumors were all but consigned to oblivion. They became less the product of sensational whispers and more deliberate fodder with which to trick and tease the new blood, like that bewildered, bubbly blonde mage Natsu had dragged in and promptly abandoned at the door to start a brawl yesterday. Miyako had watched that situation implode from her customary reading spot on the second floor, curtained in shadow and partially hidden behind a supporting post.
She'd caught the older blonde's eyes, Lucy she would later learn her name was. Lucy had smiled tentatively and given a small wave, and just to mess with her, Miyako had leaned further into the shadows and all but disappeared.
"Who was that girl on the second floor?" she'd heard Lucy query with her sharp ears.
Gray had been the one to answer. "What girl?" he'd asked casually, playing the game Miyako had started. "No one here currently is allowed up there."
"But I-"
"Lucy saw the ghost!" Happy all but shouted before snickering into his paws, like the little fiend he was.
The blonde shrieked. "G-ghost!?"
Miyako smirked to herself privately at the memory before turning her attention back to her magical theory book, and the chapter on container expansion. She'd ventured downstairs today, though still kept to the corners. At some point, Gray had wandered over, one of her few fellow mages that understood what the word 'calm' meant (at least, until Natsu asserted himself in the situation, then Gray was as bad as the rest of them). He had a book as well- a fiction novel if she wasn't mistaken. Miyako suspected Gray preferred to sit in her company when he read because no one dared intrude on her quiet, and the ice-mage could bask in the reflected silence.
She didn't mind. It seemed a fair trade for all the time he'd spent teaching her how to ice skate when she was a kid.
"Oi! Miyako-chan! Look what I found!"
A job flyer was thrust under her nose, and Miyako sighed, snapping her book shut and pushing her reading glasses further up her nose so her eyes could adjust to the too-close print.
"Natsu," Gray all but growled.
Before those two could fully register each other's presence, Miyako spoke up. "What would you have me do with this, Natsu?"
"He's looking for blonde maids," Natsu said excitedly, pointing to the words as if she hadn't just read them.
Miyako arched her brow at him. "Yes, and?"
"Well, you're blonde ain't ya? And, see, it involves books. And you've always got your face in one of those," he explained, rubbing under his nose. "Wanna come?"
He wasn't wrong. Miyako felt oddly touched that he'd considered his invitation beyond trying to get her indebted to him so he could tag along on one of her S-Class jobs (a tactic he'd tried before). She was sure he was showing her the job because he genuinely thought her hair suited her for it and she'd be interested by its nature.
"Well, I might consider… but I'm accompanying jīchan to the regular meeting," she explained, handing the flyer back to him. "We leave later today."
Natsu pouted, but any lingering feelings of rejection were quickly replaced by incandescent rage when Gray suggested, "Why don't you go put on a blonde wig and do the job yourself, pyro?"
"What!?" Natsu screeched, his fists lighting up, perhaps on instinct simply from the sound of Gray's voice rather than his actual words.
"Natsu-kun," she said coolly, letting slip her magical aura and intentionally using the slightly patronizing honorific. The dragon-slayer made an 'eep' sound and his fists sputtered out. When she was certain she had his undivided attention, she said, "Why don't you ask your new blonde friend. Lucy, was it?"
He blinked at her once, twice, before finally comprehending and smacking his palm with a fist. "I see! Let's go, Happy!" he called over his shoulder.
"Aye, sir!"
The door to the guild banged shut behind the two Fairy Tail mages as they left, and Gray sighed loudly. "Can you believe that idiot?" he asked.
She hummed and flipped her book back open.
-O-
Makarov glanced over at his only granddaughter by blood. The carriage lumbering towards Clover rocked back and forth over the uneven terrain, but she didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. Her hand turned the pages of her book at a steady, voracious pace, broken only as she occasionally pushed her round reading glasses back up her nose. He smiled fondly and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.
"How goes the research?" he asked after another minute of comfortable silence.
She held up a finger, and he waited patiently for her to finish her page, before she made a point of marking her spot, closing the book, and giving him her undivided attention. People often mistook Miyako's taciturn personality towards anyone she didn't consider her family as a choleric disposition, but he knew his granddaughter was actually very caring and attentive- just slightly socially awkward. "It's going slow," she admitted.
Makarov hummed. "That's to be expected," he offered. "Resurrecting magics that have been dead for centuries was never going to be without sweat and tears. Did you know our new recruit is a celestial spirit summoner?"
"Lucy-san?" Miyako asked. A small smile tugged at her lips, but that hungry glean of a researcher given a new subject to study in her dark eyes turned the gesture slightly predatory. "That's a magic that's been bordering on lost for decades… fascinating."
"I thought you might be intrigued," he said.
But Miyako was no longer listening. She'd brought out one of her many, many journals and a slightly chewed up pen and was hurriedly scribbling on a fresh page. Makarov only got a peek before she adjusted the angle of her journal in a way that happened to obstruct his view of her writing, but he saw she was composing a number of questions for the celestial mage.
The carriage carried on its journey in their silence and Makarov turned his gaze out the window. In the distance he could just make out the meeting hall, standing stalwart on the crest of a hill above a sea of trees and framed by far off mountains.
He'd been taking Miyako with him to these meetings since she turned fourteen, just over a year now. It wasn't unusual. Many other guild masters brought a scribe with them, but it just so happened Miyako was slightly more than a monkey with a pen. Guilds did not descend through lineage by right, but it also wasn't uncommon to see the title of master passed down through family lines if the next generation both wanted to take up the mantle, and was capable enough to do so.
Another blonde-haired, grey-eyed grandchild popped into his mind and Makarov sighed to himself. Laxus. It seemed like that boy was standing at a dangerous crossroads most of these days. The times they spoke, which were few and far between, Makarov felt his grandson was already out of reach. It was why he'd started bringing Miyako along. He'd not told her the real reason. Bless her soul, Miyako was either willfully ignorant to the choices her older brother was making, or stubbornly forgiving. She still thought he invited her so one day she'd be able to better assist her brother in his duties when he got his head out of his ass and became master.
He spared her another glance. Miyako was totally engrossed in her journal, pen between teeth, a familiar furrow in her brow.
It was a shame she was so prepared to stay in the shadows, too happy to remain in the background. Even all those books she'd written on magical theory, which had received many accolades, were published under a pseudonym.
"About ten more minutes, Master Makarov!" the driver called over his shoulder.
Makarov grunted his acknowledgement.
-O-
"Makarov, dearie, it sure must be nice to have all your little wizards so pepped up! Ooh, I heard that you gave some aristocrat a thrashing!"
The actual meeting portion of the regular meeting had finally come to a tedious end. Makarov was looking forward to the day he didn't have to come to these things anymore, although, the free booze they provided at the dinner after was always nice. He was perched in the middle of one of the tables, mug of frosty beer in hand, making conversation with his fellow guild masters and friends.
"Oh! That was my new recruit, Lucy!" Makarov informed Master Bob. "She's great! What a figure she's got!"
Master Bob immediately turned away, covering his face at Makarov's crude words. "Stop it, you flirt!" he cried out.
"Is this something to be laughing at, Makarov?" Goldmine asked cynically. "Yeah, it's great they're energetic, but they go way overboard! There are people on the council who're worried Fairy Tail is gonna crush an entire city one day, you know."
Makarov had ingested just enough alcohol that the ever-present weight of the accumulated damages his brats were capable off was a far-off worry. Right now, everything was light and fuzzy and only slightly too warm. "I'd like to be crushed… by Lucy's body that is!" he managed to get out between cackles.
"Now that's not proper!" Master Bob put in. "Don't go laying your hands on your own little wizards!"
He was unaffected by Master Bob's admonishment though, and continued his inebriated giggling. That is, until he heard his granddaughter say darkly, "Jīchan."
Fortunately, before she could say anything else, a messenger bird flew into the hall through an open window with a letter clutched between its talons. "Master Makarov! Master Makarov!" it chirped out. "A letter from Mirajane-san!"
Makarov held out his hands expectantly. "Thank you," he said when the white envelope with an official, golden Fairy Tail seal was dropped into his open palm.
A hologram of a beaming Mirajane burst out of the seal when he drew his finger in a circle around it. "Master, hard at work at your regular meeting, yes?"
Several guild masters had gathered around his table with their curious eyes and Makarov held up the hologram for all to see. "What do you think!" he crowed out victoriously. "This here's our poster-girl! Quite a looker, eh?"
Whistles and appreciative sounds went up in the crowd. "Little Mirajane, huh? She sure looks like she's grown up," Goldmine commented.
"Actually, something wonderful happened while you were gone!" Mirajane continued throwing her arms out excitedly. "Amazingly, Natsu, Gray, and Erza formed a team! I think this is the most powerful team in all of Fairy Tail! I figured I should report this, so I wrote you a letter! Talk to you later! Tell Miya-chan I said hi!"
Mirajane signed off sweetly, having no respect for the turmoil her letter had left him in.
"It seems like those worries might actually come to pass," sighed Goldmine.
Makarov's legs gave out underneath him.
-O-
Miyako slipped away from her jīchan's side sometime after Mirajane's letter. The hall was getting a bit too overzealous for her liking. The alcohol appeared to be hitting all the masters at the same time and they were getting quite rowdy and loud. Having grown up in Fairy Tail, Miyako could usually read through an apocalypse, but tonight she was feeling particularly sensitive to sound.
The doors to the main hall closed behind her, cutting off most of the noise and she sighed. She was debating between returning to the hotel, or sitting out under her stars, when an oily voice called out, "Miyako-san."
The young blonde paused, shoulders slightly tense as she turned around. "Master Jose," she replied, politely, but coolly. "How can I help you?"
Master Jose stood just slightly too close, and he towered over her petite build. Those dark painted lips were drawn back in an approximation of a smile, and the light gleamed on the grease in his slicked back hair. Miyako had always been sensitive to magic, and Master Jose's dark aura almost crawled under her skin and made her itch.
"Oh? Where is that famous Fairy Tail hospitality?" he queried too casually. "I'm sure if you smiled you'd be so much prettier, Miyako-san…"
Miyako grit her teeth, but pasted on a strained smile. "Is there something you needed?" she repeated, eager to move along.
"Nothing in particular," the older man said in a saccharine tone. "I just enjoy your magical presence. It's a shame you expend so much energy in covering it up. So unlike your grandfather's and brother's, bordering on darkness… we're alike in that regard. Don't you think, Miyako-san?"
"Jose!"
Miyako felt some tension bleed out of her body when her jīchan emerged from the hall and intervened on her behalf. The diminutive man looked dead sober now, and his lips were pressed into a thin line as he took in the scene before him.
"Makarov," Jose greeted with a canine-bearing smile. He dropped a hand on Miyako's shoulder and squeezed with too much pressure. "I was just chatting with your granddaughter. She takes very much after your estranged son, does she not? Oh, pardon. I know that's a sore subject…"
Miyako ducked away from his grasping fingers and moved to stand slightly behind her jīchan, very pointedly not looking Jose in the eye. She brushed her hair back behind her ear, and refrained from tracing her fingers over the very faint scar that split her eyebrow and ran from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of her face in the same movement, knowing the older mage would zero in on the nervous tick like a shark to blood.
"Thank you for that unsolicited observation, Jose," Makarov stated dryly. "Come along, Miyako-chan."
She felt Jose's eyes on her back the entire way out of the meeting hall, and she didn't relax until her jīchan led her all the way into the woods surrounding the building. They walked in silence until they came across a small clearing, with an unimpeded view of the star speckled sky. Without a care for the dewy grass, Miyako sat with her legs extended, but crossed at the ankle, mindful of her skirt. She leaned back on her hands, chin tilted up to the heavens, and let the starlight tickle her cheeks. Already she could feel herself calming down from being in the presence of her element.
"Jose's got some nerve cornering you like that," Makarov grumbled. He was perched on a flat rock, and sitting in agura position with his palms resting on his knees, elbows turned out.
The blonde mage made an agreeing sound, then cracked an eye open to peer at her jīchan, but he wasn't looking at her.
"I don't need to explain all the reasons why everything he said was wrong, do I?" the old man asked. His tone was humorous, but genuine nonetheless.
"I suppose not," she said.
Miyako studied magic as a trade and was acutely aware that her magic type teetered between light and dark in an atypical way. Such was the trademark of heavenly body magic. There was brilliant light in the sky just the same as there was inescapable darkness. You could not have one without the other. Normally, she was not ashamed of this fact. Dark was not inherently evil, and, in fact, she personally knew many brilliant, kind mages with dark magic types. Mirajane, Freed, Bickslow… but to be compared to her father like that always scrambled her logical thinking.
Unconsciously, Miyako lightly touched her scar. It did not stand out as sharply as her brother's, but it was there if you looked, and the scar tissue felt conspicuous beneath the pads of her fingertips.
"My child," Makarov started to say, but the sharp snap of twig being stepped on caused him to pause.
Her eyes popped open. On the edge the woods, cloaked in shadows, was a malicious magical presence. A man stepped into the clearing. He was bare-chested, but his entire torso was hastily wrapped with bandages. Crimson was already seeping through the white cotton. He had dark hair and narrow, slatted eyes and appeared just as surprised to see them as they were to see him.
"You're injured," Makarov observed flatly. "What the heck are you doing wandering around out here?"
"Uh, well…" the man faltered. "Would you listen to me play a tune?"
The stranger lifted a macabre flute partway to his lips and Miyako tilted her head to the side. The sinister magic was centered on the oddly shaped instrument. The crown was carved into the likeness of a three-eyed skull with bared teeth and the foot joint naturally tapered off as if to mimic tree roots.
"I'm not allowed to bring instruments into the hospital, so…" the man laughed sheepishly, a curious pucker in his brow that betrayed his easy-going tone. "I- I wanted someone to hear me!" he further explained when Makarov made a questioning sound.
Miyako glanced at her jīchan for a clue as to how she was supposed to act. Thus far, the older man had not acted in a way that would clue the dark-haired mage into the fact that they knew he was up to no good. "That's one creepy flute you got there," he said.
"It might look strange, but it has a lovely tone!" the stranger hastily replied.
"I'm in a hurry, but, I suppose my granddaughter and I could listen to one song, right, Miyako-chan?"
The dark-haired mage jolted when Miyako agreed, "Why not?"
She suspected he hadn't realized she was there. Panicked, grey eyes quivered on her form for a long moment. The man's skin was pallid and looked clammy even in the dark, she suspected from blood loss. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. The flute trembled in his grasp.
"L-listen up," he stuttered.
He brought the mouth piece to his lips and drew in a deep breath to his lungs, shaking fingers poised over the finger holes. There was sweat beading in his brow, now. She watched a droplet trace a sinuous path down his cheek as they waited, and waited.
"What's the matter? Hurry and play it!" Makarov goaded.
The man swallowed, and the longer he stood there, motionless, the more his lower lip trembled. His breaths puffed unevenly into the night air.
Finally, jīchan bowed his head and said, "Nothing will change."
The dark-haired mage gasped and his arms lowered involuntarily.
"Weak humans will always be weak no matter how long you wait," he continued. "But weakness is not always a bad thing. Humans are weak creatures from the start. Uneasy by ourselves, we form guilds where we have allies and friends. In order to thrive we bind together and progress ahead. These awkward combinations might run into more walls than would a single person, and we might take a long time to get where we're going, but as long as we believe in tomorrow and place one foot in front of the other, we will be filled with power from within. Living a strong life means being able to smile, and not relying on something like that flute."
A soft clatter filled the woods. The man lost his grip on the flute and he ended up in a dogeza position before them, trembling fingers clutching at the dusty earth.
"I surrender," the man said shakily.
Miyako bent over and examined the flute. It's magic squirmed within the confines of the wood like mealworms in an apple, and, to get a better look, she retrieved her special mage glasses from their protective case in her bag and pushed them up her nose.
"Master!" she heard Erza's voice call.
"Jīchan!" that was Natsu and Gray.
She paid them no mind. The magic in the flute appeared rich and black and sticky like natto, like if you touched the container it would cling to your fingers and seep into your pores. Miyako glanced up and saw that, in fact, there was some residual magic left on the strange man's hands. Fascinating. This went beyond curse magic. It was living magic. And it was the blackest magic she'd ever seen, and she had studied many artifacts. Though she'd never seen this particular signature before, she knew immediately who this flute had once belonged to.
Zeref.
Suddenly, the flute's eyes began glowing deep purple, and Miyako pursed her lips. "No," she said simply, and held her hand out over the instrument, placing a magic seal on it.
The other magic resisted, twisting in the wind, but, despite its malicious aura, it was actually fairly weakened, all snarl and no bite. She suspected it had been sealed for a long time before this, and hadn't had the chance to gather its strength back. She put it down without much of a fight.
"Miyako! Careful!"
Erza's stern voice interrupted her musing. "I have it contained," Miyako said plainly. To prove her point, she picked the flute up and poised it in front of her mouth.
"Miyako!"
She blew into the mouthpiece and the instrument produced a soft note. Everyone around her tensed and their hands flew to cover their ears, but, nothing happened. They stared at her, probably shocked by her audacity, but Miyako wasn't bothered.
"Just a flute now," she said, tucking it into her bag before any of the other masters could get a glimpse of it and try and stop her.
Her jīchan gave her an inscrutable look, his mustache twitching in warning. They both knew that the magic council expected any artifact such as this one, especially this one, be turned into their custody. They both also knew the magic council could not be fully trusted with something like this. It was safer in Miyako's care, locked in Fairy Tail's deepest vault.
They stared at each other for a long moment, dark eyes that had been passed down through generations communicating silently. Finally, jīchan gave Miyako a curt nod.
Miyako buckled her satchel and adjusted its strap on her shoulder.
-O-
They returned to Magnolia that evening. The carriage ride was spent with Erza explaining how they came to be in Clover in measured words, Happy chiming in often with commentary, and Natsu's nauseous burbling as background noise.
Before they'd taken off, there'd been a funny moment when Lucy had spotted Miyako and yelped, scurrying behind Natsu and saying, "It's the ghost again!"
Happy burst into manic giggles, his paws not even muffling the sound.
"Hm?" Jīchan glanced where Lucy's shaking finger was pointed and saw that it aligned with his granddaughter. He sighed in exasperation. "Really, Miyako-chan, you must stop tricking the new blood into thinking you're a spirit."
Miyako lifted a shoulder. "I didn't start that rumor," she said.
"No, you just perpetuate it," the old man had grumbled. "Lucy, despite her very pasty skin, Miyako is not a ghost. She's my sun-deprived granddaughter."
Lucy had blushed then, swatting Happy who'd clearly been in on the joke. Luckily for Gray, the celestial mage didn't suspect he'd participated in tricking her as well. Now, as their carriage rolled off into the night, Lucy kept cutting glances in Miyako's direction curiously.
Finally, the older blonde seemed to pluck up the courage to ask what had been on her mind, because she opened her mouth, and Miyako braced herself for questions about being the guild master's granddaughter, or something alike, and was summarily shocked when Lucy innocently queried, "How is it you're writing so neatly when the carriage is so bumpy?"
Miyako's pen paused mid-word, and her lips parted on a little 'o'. After a moment, she managed to answer, "My pen is spelled with a stabilizing charm."
"Wow! That's so convenient!" Lucy said in wonder. "I wish I had one of those!"
"Are you a writer?" Miyako couldn't help but ask.
The celestial mage's cheeks flushed. "N-no!" she stammered. "I mean, well, I guess, but, I'm not good yet or anything!"
Miyako wasn't very good with people she hadn't known since her childhood, and she hadn't meant to make Lucy uncomfortable. "Everyone starts somewhere," she said in what she hoped was a comforting tone. She dug into the side pocket of her satchel and found her spare pen, one without any teeth marks. "Here," she offered, holding it out.
"Thanks," Lucy murmured, clutching the pen tight. A dusty rose lingered on her cheeks. "Are you a writer too?"
Gray was looking out the window, chin resting on his fist, but he answered before she could make similar denials, "Miyako-chan is a researcher."
The cart rolled to a gentle stop as they paused for passing traffic and Natsu apparently revived long enough to add, "She has a suede nam- eep!" the last word was cut short as the cart lurched forward again.
"A pseudonym, Natsu," Miyako corrected lightly. "I write under a pseudonym. Not a suede name."
"Same- ugh, difference," Natsu managed before collapsing back over the bench.
"Not really!" Happy chirped.
"Ten minutes!" their driver called in warning.
When they arrived at Fairy Tail, the sun was coming up over the horizon. It had been a long night for all, but Miyako was the first out of the carriage. She called her thanks to the driver, and hurried inside the guild, pausing only to fetch the spare key from its hiding spot to unlock the door. It was too early for anyone to be in, and she headed up to jīchan's office.
He joined her five minutes later, eyeing the flute she'd placed on the center of his desk and was staring at with hungry eyes.
"How confident are you in that seal?" he asked.
"Very," Miyako answered, not looking up. "It must be some of his early work. It didn't put up much of a fight."
Makarov breathed in deeply. "Nevertheless, it is still a demon. One of Zeref's demons. I'm just as hesitant to turn it over to the council as you are, but, Miyako, you know I must ask you to exercise the upmost caution if you plan to study Lullaby."
"I know," Miyako said, finally tearing her gaze away. "I will. But just think of the potential. No one has ever gotten the opportunity to properly study Zeref's work before. I wonder if I could understand his process, his signature, the next time something like Deliora arises, maybe we could be better equipped to deal with it."
The older mage was quiet for a moment. "Lock that thing in the vault for now," he said. "You may begin examining it at some other time. It's far too late- too early, now, I suppose."
A yawn forced its way out of Miyako's mouth at the mere mention of the time. "Okay," she agreed.
Few knew of the vault beneath Fairy Tail proper. Even Miyako was not aware of the full extent of it. That was a secret passed down through Fairy Tail's masters, and Miyako, though curious, had respected this tradition and never asked. She was happy enough with the part she had access too- a collection of books removed from the larger library above, the magical containment unit for artifacts such as Lullaby, and a small room she'd converted into a research lab and study long ago.
Miyako carefully placed the flute into a fortified container and locked it in her desk.
