Chapter 89: The Battle for Fairy Tail
The morning of the Harvest Festival dawned bright and clear over Magnolia. Banners hung from every lamppost, flowers decorated every windowsill, and the streets were already crowded with vendors selling roasted nuts and sweet dumplings and little wooden toys that parents bought for children who had been good all year. The guild hall had been transformed overnight, its new façade draped in ribbons of red and gold, its entrance flanked by towering arrangements of autumn flowers that Mirajane had spent the previous afternoon arranging.
Lucy Heartfilia ran through the streets with her heels in her hand and her hair half pinned and her dress bunched up around her knees so she would not trip. She was late. She was very late. She had spent too long in the bath, too long in bed, too long tangled up with Natsu and the heat of him and the way he had looked at her when she finally pushed him out the door with a kiss and a promise to see her at the contest.
Now the sun was high and the crowds were thick and she was running.
She burst through the guild doors with her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed and her dress still half fastened in the back. The hall was packed. Every table was full, every chair was taken, and there were people standing against the walls and sitting on the stairs and leaning over the railing of the second floor that everyone was allowed to use now. The stage at the far end had been decorated with more flowers and ribbons and a backdrop painted with the Fairy Tail emblem in gold and blue.
Max Alors stood at the center of the stage, a microphone in his hand and a smile on his face that was too wide to be genuine. He was wearing a suit that was too bright and a bow tie that was too large and the kind of enthusiasm that could only come from a man who had been given a microphone and told to speak.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, his voice echoing through the hall. "Welcome to the first annual Miss Fairy Tail contest. Tonight, we celebrate the beauty, the talent, and the spirit of the women who make this guild the most extraordinary in the kingdom."
The crowd cheered. Max waited for the noise to settle, then raised his hand toward the curtain at the back of the stage.
"Let us begin with our first contestant. A woman whose card tricks are as sharp as her wit and whose smile can charm the jewels right out of your pocket. Give it up for Cana Alberona."
Cana walked onto the stage with a bottle in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. Her dress was cut low and her hair was loose and she was smiling the smile of a woman who had been drinking since breakfast and did not care who knew it. She held up the deck of cards and fanned them with a flick of her wrist. They shimmered in the stage lights, each face painted with a different image, each image moving slightly, breathing, living.
She tossed the deck into the air and the cards exploded into a storm of color, swirling around her, forming shapes that shifted and changed. A heart. A diamond. The face of a woman laughing. The face of a man weeping. They spun faster and faster until the crowd was dizzy watching them, and then they fell, fluttering to the stage like autumn leaves, and Cana caught one between her fingers and held it up.
It was the Queen of Hearts. Her own face painted on the card, her smile the same smile she was wearing now.
She took a bow. The crowd roared. She took a drink from her bottle and walked off stage with the same easy sway she had walked on with.
Max returned to the center, his smile undimmed. "A stunning performance from our first contestant. But the competition is just beginning. Next, a woman whose beauty is matched only by her devotion and whose spirit flows as deep and powerful as the sea itself. Welcome Juvia Lockser."
Juvia stepped onto the stage in a dress of pale blue that shimmered like water in sunlight. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and her hands were clasped in front of her, trembling slightly, the way they always trembled when she was nervous. She looked out at the crowd, at the faces of her guild mates, at Gray who was sitting at the bar with his shirt on for once and his eyes fixed on her and his mouth slightly open.
She raised her hands and water rose with them. It came from nowhere, from everywhere, from the air and the stage and the very light that shone down on her. It formed a curtain behind her, a wall of liquid crystal that caught the light and threw it back in a hundred different colors. The water moved with her, responding to her breath, her heartbeat, her will. It shaped itself into waves and spirals and the image of a woman with her arms outstretched and her face turned toward the sky.
The crowd watched in silence. The water sang. It was not music, not quite, but something close to it, something that vibrated in the chest and the throat and the spaces between words.
Juvia lowered her hands. The water fell, a gentle rain that misted the front rows and left them laughing and wiping their faces and reaching for more. She curtsied, a small, shy motion, and walked off stage with her cheeks pink and her eyes bright.
Gray was already on his feet. Lucy saw him start toward the back of the hall, toward where Juvia had disappeared, and she smiled despite herself.
Max cleared his throat. "A beautiful performance. Truly moving. Our next contestant is a woman of many talents, many faces, and many surprises. Please welcome Mirajane Strauss."
Mirajane walked onto the stage in her usual white dress, her hair falling in soft waves, her smile serene and perfect. She stopped at the center and raised her hands. Light shimmered around her. Her form shifted, changed, became something else.
She was a cat. A large, fluffy cat with Mirajane's face and Mirajane's smile and a tail that swished behind her. She meowed. It was a very convincing meow.
The crowd stared.
She shifted again. She was a fish now, flopping on the stage, her eyes wide, her mouth opening and closing in a way that might have been charming if it had not been so strange. She flopped for a moment, then stood up and transformed into a bird, a small brown sparrow that perched on the microphone stand and chirped once before becoming Mirajane again.
She smiled. She curtsied. She walked off stage.
The crowd did not know whether to clap or cry. There was a smattering of uncertain applause, a few people who were laughing because they did not know what else to do, and a long silence from the rest of the hall.
Max wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "Well. That was certainly something. Moving on. Our next contestant needs no introduction, but I will give her one anyway. A woman whose strength is legendary, whose beauty is undeniable, and whose sword is sharp enough to cut through anything. Please welcome Erza Scarlet."
Erza stepped onto the stage in a flash of light. Her dress was armor, but armor that had been shaped and polished and adorned until it looked like something out of a storybook. Silver and gold, red and white, it caught the light and threw it back in a dozen different directions. She raised her hand and light bloomed around her. Another armor, this one black and blue, the wings of the Black Wing Armor spreading behind her like a shadow given form. The crowd gasped. She shifted again, the Flame Empress Armor blazing with light and heat that made the front rows lean back. Another shift, the Heaven's Wheel Armor, spectral swords forming a halo behind her head.
She stood in the center of the stage, surrounded by light, and the crowd was on its feet, clapping and cheering and whistling. She smiled, a rare, small thing, and let the armors fade one by one until she was standing in her simple dress, her hair loose, her face flushed with something that might have been pleasure or might have been relief.
She bowed and walked off stage.
Max was beaming. "Erza Scarlet, everyone. Let's hear it for the Titania."
The cheering continued. Max let it go on for a moment, then raised his hand for quiet.
"Our next contestant is a woman of letters, a woman of learning, a woman whose words are as powerful as any spell. Please welcome Levy McGarden."
Levy stepped onto the stage in a dress of soft green that matched her hair. Her hands were shaking, her face was pale, and she was gripping a small book so tightly her knuckles were white. She opened it and the words lifted off the page, glowing letters that floated in the air around her, forming sentences that told stories of love and loss and the courage to begin again. They spiraled upward, a tower of light that reached toward the ceiling, and when they reached their peak, they burst into a shower of golden sparks that fell like rain.
Levy closed her book. She looked at the crowd. She smiled, a real smile, the smile of a woman who had been afraid and had done it anyway. The crowd cheered. She walked off stage with her head high and her book pressed against her chest.
Max was already speaking. "Next, a woman whose aim is as true as her heart, a sharpshooter who never misses her mark. Please welcome Bisca Mulan."
Bisca walked onto the stage in a dress that was practical and elegant all at once, her rifle slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled back from her face. She did not perform. She did not dance or sing or conjure water from the air. She stood at the center of the stage and raised her rifle to her shoulder and fired three shots into the air. They exploded in bursts of color, red and gold and blue, forming the Fairy Tail emblem against the ceiling. She lowered her rifle, bowed, and walked off stage.
The crowd applauded. It was not the loudest applause of the night, but it was genuine, and Bisca was smiling when she reached the wings.
Max wiped his forehead again. The evening was warm and the stage lights were hot and he had been talking for a long time. "One more contestant," he said. "A woman whose journey to Fairy Tail is the stuff of legend, whose courage has been tested in fire and ice, and whose spirit has never once wavered. Please welcome Lucy Heartfilia."
Lucy took a breath. She smoothed her dress. She stepped onto the stage.
The lights were bright. The crowd was a sea of faces. She could see Natsu at the back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his scarf bright against his chest. She could see Erza in the wings, watching, waiting. She could see Happy perched on the bar with a fish in his paws and his eyes wide.
She walked to the center of the stage. She raised her hands to summon her keys, to call her spirits, to show them what she could do, to prove that she was more than a photograph in a magazine, more than a girl in a bunny costume, more than the joke they had made of her.
The lights went out.
Not the soft darkness of Mirajane's song. This was sudden, absolute, the kind of darkness that swallowed everything. The crowd gasped. Someone shouted. Someone else screamed.
When the lights came back, Evergreen was standing at the center of the stage.
Her dress was pale green, her hair was perfect, her glasses were perched on her nose, and her smile was the smile of a woman who had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. She looked at the crowd. She looked at the judges. She looked at Lucy, who was standing frozen at the edge of the stage, her keys still in her hands, her mouth still open.
"The rightful winner," Evergreen said. Her voice was soft, almost gentle. "That is what I am. That is what I have always been. And now, everyone will see."
She raised her hand. Her glasses lifted from her face, floating in the air before her. Behind them, her eyes were open, wide and bright and terrible.
Lucy tried to move. Her legs would not obey. Her arms would not obey. Her keys were heavy in her hands, too heavy, and the light was fading, and Evergreen was looking at her.
Stone spread across Lucy's skin. Her feet first, then her legs, then her hips. She felt it crawling up her body, freezing her, claiming her. She tried to scream. Her mouth would not open.
The stone reached her chest. Her arms. Her neck. Her face.
The last thing she saw was Evergreen's smile, soft and gentle and terrible, and then there was nothing at all.
The crowd was screaming now. People were running toward the stage, toward Lucy, toward the statue of a woman in a beautiful dress with her keys raised and her mouth open in a scream that would never come.
Evergreen turned. She walked to the wings, where the other contestants had been waiting. The curtain fell away.
Cana stood frozen, her bottle raised to her lips, her face caught in a laugh that had become stone. Juvia stood beside her, her hands raised, her water suspended in midair, frozen mid-wave. Mirajane stood with her arms at her sides, her expression caught between surprise and something that might have been recognition. Erza stood with her hand reaching for a sword that was not there, her face carved in fury. Levy stood with her book open, the words frozen on the page. Bisca stood with her rifle raised, the bullet still in the chamber, the shot never fired.
All of them stone. All of them silent. All of them waiting.
Evergreen walked to the center of the stage and faced the crowd. Her glasses were back on her face. Her smile had not changed.
"The battle for Fairy Tail," she said, "has begun."
The crowd was silent. The stage was silent. The women of Fairy Tail stood like statues in the wings, frozen forever in a moment that would not pass.
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Next Time: The Fighting Festival Continues