Cold is not a privilege exclusive to winter.
On this day, as spring transitions into summer, a sudden downpour unexpectedly brings a chilling feeling to the heart.
Loneliness seeps out from the slightly dimming dusk, merging with the boundless darkness of the sky, creating an overwhelming sense of stillness and silence.
The dim glow of streetlights on either side of the road reflects off the white rain curtain.
The rain continues to pour down from the heavens, seemingly endless, making the passage of time feel utterly meaningless.
A hint of sorrow, a touch of the passage of time, a trace of loneliness—mixed together, they form a vague sense of "solitude."
In the dim sky, the dark clouds gathered together, eventually turning into cold raindrops, forming a white water curtain that seems to separate the world and its people completely.
The sound of the rain is crisp and sharp, unexpectedly cold to the bone.
On the streets of Kuroba Town, there are no longer any figures walking about.
Many shops are still open, but there are no customers.
Occasionally, a figure crosses the street, only hurrying home or lingering out of necessity.
In such heavy rain, unless absolutely required, no one would choose to stay outside for even a second longer.
Standing at the entrance of a well-known pastry shop in Kuroba Town, Makarov looked at the sky, which had turned from light drizzle to a torrential downpour in the short time it took for him to buy a few pastries, and couldn't help but let out a deep sigh.
(I just wanted to bring back some gifts for Gray and Cana after the regular meeting. I never expected the weather to change so quickly, and of all times, it had to be right when I was heading home.)
If it were just me, it wouldn't matter, but the box with the pastries I bought, although it looks sturdy, probably won't survive the heavy rain during the walk from here to the station.
(I should wait a little longer, let the rain lighten up before heading out. These are gifts for the kids. I'm sure Gray and Cana will be happy to have such delicious pastries.)
A faint smile appeared on Makarov's face.
But as time passed, the rain showed no signs of easing, and if anything, it seemed to be getting heavier.
Just as Makarov began to consider whether to brave the rain and return to the guild, his eyes, almost by chance, caught sight of an anomaly in the midst of the rain.
Despite the torrential downpour, at the street corner, a small figure stood there, battered by the cold wind and rain, looking as fragile and helpless as a blade of grass in a storm.
Makarov furrowed his brows, placed the pastry box on the counter of the pastry shop, and swiftly moved towards the corner of the street.
When he got closer, he was able to clearly see the figure's identity.
It was a thin child with golden hair, around ten years old.
His long golden hair hadn't been tended to for quite some time, with bangs hanging down over his face, covering half of his right side.
Though his face was somewhat dirty, it couldn't hide his handsome features.
The child wore a thin, tattered garment, stained with dirt and mud, and was sitting at the corner of the street, his head slightly tilted back, accepting the relentless rainfall.
The torrential rain mercilessly struck the exposed skin of the child, including his cheeks.
Some areas weren't just red and swollen; they were even bruised, showing just how fierce the downpour was.
However, the child's expression was surprisingly calm, or rather, lifeless.
When Makarov reached the child's side, it seemed the child was startled.
His eyes, lacking focus, met Makarov's gaze.
In that instant, Makarov felt a chill emanating from the child's eyes, piercing into his heart.
What kind of eyes were these? They were blue, like the sky, but they were lifeless, full of despair, hollow, void, and devoid of any vitality, as if everything had been dragged into the abyss of death by these eyes.
Makarov had seen such eyes before, and those who carried such emotions in their eyes were always those who had given up on life and wished for death.
(This child, what exactly is he...?)
Makarov felt a stirring in his heart, and the words he originally intended to say drowned in his throat.
Not knowing what to say, he moved his body, attempting to shield the child from the rain as much as possible with his own body, which was only slightly larger than the child's.
"Don't... come near me... I'm dirty... a cursed person." It seemed that the child noticed Makarov's movement.
He spoke softly, his voice hoarse and broken, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.
"Child, come with me over there to avoid the rain, alright?" Despite being drenched by the rain, Makarov still smiled gently at the child.
"....."
After a long silence, it seemed that Makarov's smile and his genuine gesture to shield the child from the rain had moved the golden-haired child.
After a brief hesitation, the child nodded.
Under Makarov's guidance, the golden-haired child reached the shelter in front of the bakery.
Once they arrived, Makarov realized that at some point, the child's hand had already slipped from his own.
The child's lifeless eyes stared at the heavy rain outside, as if lost in thought.
"Child, where are your family?" Makarov gently asked.
The child continued to gaze out at the rain, but a whisper reached Makarov's ears. "They're... all dead."
A slight awkwardness appeared on Makarov's face. "I'm sorry..."
The child shook his head, and once again, silence fell between them.
A cold aura emanated from the child, as though an invisible barrier separated the two.
Makarov happened to glance at the cake box on the counter.
A thought crossed his mind, and he opened the box, pulling out a piece of cake and offering it to the child.
"Child, would you like to eat this cake I have?"
The child seemed surprised by Makarov's gesture, a look of confusion appearing on his face.
After a long moment, the child slowly extended his hand and took the cake.
With intense focus, he began to savor it, eating slowly as if each bite was something to be thoroughly appreciated.
Makarov felt a slight relief in his heart and, without thinking, said, "Child, since you have nowhere to go, why don't you join my guild?"
"Guild?" The child repeated the word, sounding unfamiliar with it.
Makarov explained, "A guild is a wizard's guild. The members of the guild might argue at times, but they quickly reconcile, grow together, take on missions together, and face challenges together. One person's sorrow is everyone's sorrow, and one person's happiness is everyone's happiness. The members of the guild are like family, and the guild is like a home for its members."
"Family... home..." The child murmured these words, his lifeless eyes gradually filling with unspoken emotions—perhaps bitterness, perhaps longing, perhaps pain.
"So, what do you think? How about joining my guild? My guild is called Fairy Tail. It's a wonderful guild," Makarov said with pride and joy, extending his hand to the child.
"I... don't deserve happiness. I am dirty... a cursed person," the child said, hesitating for a moment before shaking his head.
"I... carry a sin that cannot be redeemed... I can only quietly wait for the moment I fall into hell."
Makarov looked at the child's face, seeing the deep sorrow and the overwhelming despair that could not be let go.
His heart ached.
(What kind of past did this child have to carry such heavy pain and despair?)
"How will you know unless you try..." Makarov's expression grew serious.
"I don't know what happened in your past, but since you've already given up on everything, why not start over? It can't get worse than it is now, right? Why not try again, give it another chance?"
"Start... over... try again? Can I really do it?"
"Of course you can. Join my guild," Makarov said with a warm smile.
The child hesitated for a while. After a long moment, he placed his hand into Makarov's palm. "If... it's possible."
"Alright, what's your name, child?"
"My name... is Noel... From today, my name is Noel," the child said, pausing slightly when he spoke his name.
Makarov keenly noticed the words "from today" in the child's sentence.
(Does 'from today' mean he doesn't want to mention his past name?)
Makarov thought, but still smiled and said, "Welcome to Fairy Tail, Noel."
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