"It's all right." Erza's voice was quiet, thoughtful. "Weird is fine. It means you care about things."
For a while, after Kaia's breathing slowed into the gentle, hiccuping rhythm of true sleep, Erza lay very still. The room around them so ordinary with its old beams, moonlit curtains, and the faint trace of lavender soap felt like it had drifted out of time, untethered from the rushing current of days, battles, and ambitions. The world, for this moment, was reduced to the soft cocoon of a rented bed and the fragile, impossible peace that followed a day without disaster.
She shifted slightly, careful not to disturb the pillow rampart she'd built, though it had already been breached by Kaia's unconscious sprawl. That was a curious thing about Kaia: awake, she was all sharp retorts and scrappy bravado, like a kitten who'd convinced herself she was a sabertooth. But asleep well, asleep, she was something else entirely.
Erza propped herself up on one elbow, half-hidden in the shadow between lamplight and moonbeam, and studied the girl beside her. Kaia's blue-black hair tumbled across the pillow, wild as always but glinting silver in the light. A faint crease lingered between her brows stubborn, even in dreams. Her lips, which by day wielded sarcasm as skillfully as a sword, were now parted in perfect, defenseless silence.
Adorable, Erza thought, and immediately rolled her eyes at herself. She was not supposed to think things like that. She was a warrior, not a soft-hearted nursemaid. And yet there was something about the sight a kind of innocence, or trust that made her chest ache in a way she couldn't name.
She reached out, almost without realizing, and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from Kaia's face. The strands were unexpectedly soft softer than silk, smoother than Erza's own hair, which had suffered years of wind, battles, and the questionable mercy of Fairy Tail hairdressers.
Erza's fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary, stroking the wild hair as if it might purr. It was a stupid thing to do, but she couldn't help herself. Kaia didn't stir, didn't wake. For once, her nightmares if she had them seemed to be giving her a reprieve.
She looks so peaceful, Erza thought, and a strange, protective warmth fluttered in her chest.
How odd, to feel this way after so little time. Weeks, really, since Kaia had staggered into Fairy Tail like a lost comet, tripping over her own boots and immediately attracting trouble like a magnet wrapped in bacon. And yet, it felt as if Erza had known her for years no, for longer than that, in the deep, wordless way that sword-sisters and war orphans sometimes understood each other.
Maybe it was just that Fairy Tail had a way of accelerating the heart. Danger, magic, chaos they all smashed people together like stones in a river, shaping them faster, deeper. Or maybe, Erza thought, it was just Kaia. The girl made an impression, as impossible to ignore as a pie in the face during breakfast.
Erza smiled, and to her own shock, realized it was the soft kind of smile, the kind that never showed up during training or mission briefings.
You're getting sentimental, she scolded herself. That's how people die of embarrassment in this guild.
But the warmth in her chest was complicated, and not as simple as kindness or affection. As she lay there, listening to the gentle night noises a distant owl, the creak of the old inn, Kaia's muttered threat about "exploding pancakes" Erza's mind drifted, as it too often did, to less peaceful memories.
The moon slipped behind a cloud. The room cooled, shadows pooling in the corners. Erza's gaze, still fixed on Kaia's face, grew distant.
Jellal.
The name was a wound, old and never truly closed. Even now, after everything, her heart still twisted at the memory the boy she had loved, the friend who had become a monster, the enemy who haunted her every victory.
Is it possible, she wondered, to hate someone and still care for them? Was it loyalty, or cowardice, that made her cling to the hope that somewhere, the real Jellal still existed, trapped inside the villain building his mad tower by the sea?
Do I still love him? The thought burned, as sharp as any blade she'd ever wielded.
She remembered the Tower of Heaven its cold stone corridors, the terror and despair, Jellal's face lit by the blue-green glow of forbidden magic. The betrayal was still fresh, like a bruise pressed from within. There were times, even now, when she awoke certain she was still there, still fighting to breathe, to hope.
You're so stupid, Scarlet. You protect everyone but yourself.
Erza squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memory away, but it lingered at the edge of her mind, a shadow she could never quite dispel.
She glanced down at Kaia again, searching for an anchor in the present. It startled her, how easy it was to return to this moment to let the past fade, just for a heartbeat, in the presence of someone who hadn't yet learned to doubt her.
Kaia murmured something in her sleep, rolling closer, hair fanned out like a midnight halo. Erza swallowed, embarrassed by the sudden thought that Kaia looked... well, adorable. Like something worth protecting. Like a promise that maybe the world could be softer, if only for a little while.
Ridiculous, she told herself. You've known her for weeks, not years. Get a grip.
But the feeling refused to vanish.
She let her hand rest lightly on Kaia's head, stroking gently, mesmerized by the texture. How could someone spend all day throwing themselves at danger and still have hair this soft? Unfair.
She caught herself actually caught herself thinking about the future. What it would be like if Kaia stayed in the guild, if they kept sharing battles, breakfasts, and beds (purely for convenience, obviously). The image startled her so much that she nearly yanked her hand away.
You're fifteen. You're a S-Class mage. You don't have time for this. You're supposed to be thinking about missions, not...
Not what? Not the way Kaia made her laugh in the middle of chaos, or the way she'd started looking for her approval after every spell gone right or wrong. Not the way she had become, almost overnight, a fixture in Erza's world, as necessary as air, as strange as hope.
Erza sighed, resigned to the absurdity of her own heart.
She tried to let her mind drift, to relax into the rhythm of the night. But the old ghosts refused to leave her in peace. Jellal's voice echoed, cold and cruel. The tower rose in her imagination, each stone heavy with memory.
Would you forgive me, if you saw me now? she wondered, not sure if she was speaking to Jellal, herself, or the darkness.
She didn't have an answer. She wasn't sure she ever would.
But when she looked back down at Kaia, the ache eased, just a little. Here was something new, unscarred, unburdened by the mistakes of the past. Kaia didn't know everything about Erza, hadn't seen the worst of her yet. And still, she stayed.
Erza felt her jaw tighten. If anyone tried to take that away if the world tried to repeat its cruelties she would burn down every tower from here to the ends of Fiore.
She brushed Kaia's hair one last time, letting the softness linger on her fingertips. Maybe, she thought, that was all anyone could ask for. A few quiet nights, a handful of soft moments.
Maybe, just maybe, I can protect this one thing. For now.
Outside, the moon emerged again, flooding the room with silver light.
Erza lay back, letting herself relax for the first time in what felt like years. The pillow rampart was breached. Kaia snored, a little, but it was the kind of sound that meant you were safe enough to let your guard down.
Just for tonight, she promised herself, let there be peace.
And if, in the morning, she found her hand still tangled in Kaia's hair well, that would be a problem for the next battle.