Work Text:
The first payment Erza received as a member of Fairy Tail went to a sword. It wasn't fancy, or particularly good, but it was shiny and new, and her own--not stolen off a dead man or taken from a defeated bandit.
The second handful of jewels she earned went to a new shirt. Simple, plain, but hers. Not handed down by an older teen or gifted by kindly adults... hers, to wear and mend and wash.
The third went to a slice of cake.
It should have gone to all sorts of things. Armor, perhaps, or another weapon. She could have bought new boots that didn't pinch her feet, or one of the second-hand books on Requipping that had been recommended to her... She could've put it away for rent at Fairy Hills, and cut down on the nights she spent on a makeshift cot in the guildhouse.
But she didn't. She saw it in the window of a bakery, all sweet and picture-pretty, with swirls of white frosting and shiny glazed fruit, and before she knew it she was standing on the street, pockets lighter, cake box in hand.
She'd been embarrassed when she'd realized what she'd done, felt her face burn as she stared at her indulgence... but she couldn't return it. And neither could she bring it to the guild hall--the others would see, and know what she'd done (spending money!! On something like that! When she was still living on Master Makarov's kindness!).
So she scurried off to a quiet bench by the river, and she waited to be sure no one would come by, and she ate her cake. All by herself, quickly, with her bare hands.
It was sweet; teeth-achingly so. The cake was tender and light and the frosting creamy and rich. The fruit burst between her teeth, sugar giving way to tart, juicy brightness. It was overwhelming. It was wrong. Her stomach felt sick when she looked at the empty box, and her blood pounded in her ears, and she licked her fingers clean and memorized the shop name on the box before crumpling it to throw away.
Erza felt like every eye was on her when she returned to the guild hall... she tensed, waiting for the moment her gluttony would be revealed. Would it be one of the adults, shaming her? Mirajane, having caught wind of her weakness? One of the younger kids, maybe? Surely, someone would call her on her shamelessness.
No one did. She was greeted with the same cheery words as ever. When Makarov asked her how she'd done, when she couldn't meet his eyes, she was sure the gig was up... but he only smiled and nodded, patting her head. He praised her for a job well done. She couldn't shake the feeling that he knew, and yet there was nothing but pleasant warmth in his voice.
Her fourth job, and her fifth, and sixth, secured her a room of her own. The seventh bought her that book, brand-new (a good job, harder than she'd expected, but cleared easily). At eight, she could afford a breastplate. Nine and ten completed the suit of armor.
She stopped counting her completed jobs after ten. She stacked up the fliers, stamped as proof of her success, but she no longer kept their number in mind when she took another. She hadn't failed at ten... not fifteen, not beyond that. She didn't need to break up her purchases so tightly, not when she brought in more jewels every week, little by little.
She didn't know how many she'd completed when she returned to the bakery. Erza had struggled to allow herself to return to this street, fearful of what she might do... but standing in front of the window, it was more shocking that she didn't want to resist.
She bought something light green and fancy that tasted of almonds and sweetness, and thought of the friends who'd never have the chance to taste such things, and cried. Erza wiped the tears away with one hand, unable to stop their flow, her false eye remaining dry as she took bite after bite. When it was done, the guilt pressed on her hard enough to make her consider throwing it up, but she didn't. And when she went to the guild hall the next morning, no one pointed or whispered.
She didn't even know why she sought out Makarov, having nothing in particular to say... but he smiled and pat her head regardless. She'd done well, he said. It made her stomach lighter.
It was weeks later before she found herself at the bakery window once again. She'd done well to hold out--her bank account was stable, her rent paid, her armory replete with solid weapons for varied fighting styles. She didn't know what you called such a flaky dessert, all light pastry and cream and chocolate, but she knew she wanted it.
And so Erza was sloppy. She hadn't checked carefully on her way in, and the faint smile she allowed herself fell when she stepped out onto the street and saw familiar faces.
It felt like a hole had dropped below her feet, like she'd been turned inside out. The pounding of her heart made her feel faint as she stared at Master Makarov and his blonde-haired grandson, paused on the street before her.
In her mind, she felt Laxus sneer. He was disdainful, aloof; he saw her weakness and her selfishness, and tensed to pounce. Master Makarov as well, he was too smart, too good to not know what a sin she was committing. She lowered her gaze and clutched her box and tried not to think of him swelling in size, looming over her, one fist growing massive, his voice BOOMING--
"Laxus? Will you go ahead to Fairy Tail?"
The man's voice was mild and pleasant. Erza didn't dare look up. Laxus grumbled slightly, but hardly protested. Once assured that the Master would be along after him, his footsteps shuffled away and left Erza and Makarov in silence.
The wind rustled by. She heard him take a step closer and closed her eyes, tensed.
A hand found her head. It was its normal size. Makarov pat her hair gently, fondly.
"Well done as always, Erza."
It left her speechless. She couldn't relax, or catch her breath. She waited for the chastisement to come--a strike, a blow, shouting, anger, disapproval--!! But there was nothing but his soft voice and warm palm.
She couldn't sit with it. Like a child worrying a loose tooth, she spoke, trying to prompt his retaliation. "M-master, I can explain..."
"Explain what?" he replied, taking his hand away to fold it behind his back. Erza lifted her head just enough to check his body posture, but it wasn't aggressive. He looked as relaxed as when he sat in the guild hall, overseeing them all. "Can't an old man praise his child?"
It felt wrong--so wrong, it made her quiver. "I-I... n-no, I haven't done anything worthy of praise...!" She still had time. She could throw the cake away, or run into the shop and demand they refund her or... Or... Something. She could do something to lessen her mistakes before he turned on her...!
"Of course you have!" He chuckled, and Erza lifted her head slightly. Her hair fell like a curtain before her eyes, but it couldn't conceal his fond smile. "You deserve a treat, here and there!"
She wanted to protest. She had to. He was wrong, and he didn't even realize it. Normal girls deserved cake. Lissana did, and Cana, and even Mirajane, but not ERZA. Not the girl who ran from the Tower of Heaven. Not someone who'd left her friends to suffer. They had nothing to eat like this. They couldn't indulge in sweetness. For Milliana, Simon, Shou, Wally, for HIM, there were no little bakeries on quiet streets, no pretty swirls of icing. She didn't deserve what they couldn't have, and it was wrong to forget that for even a moment.
But Makarov didn't give her the chance to protest. He left no room for her to make clear how terrible she was being. He spoke again, still warm, still soft.
"You deserve nice things, Erza," he said, with a smile, "It's alright to treat yourself. No one at Fairy Tail will begrudge you that. It's not like anyone else has ever once held back from indulging, after all!"
He tried to sound like he was grumbling, but there was laughter in his eyes as he watched her. The image of the guild flashed through her mind. Drinking, smoking, laughing. Cards and magazines, sandwiches and jokes, a room full of smiling faces. She tried to imagine Natsu hesitating before something he wanted. It was an impossible image.
Erza wavered. Makarov's hand on her shoulder steadied her.
"You don't have to hold yourself back, Erza." He was quiet now, just above a murmur. His words were simple but they felt important. They felt vital, like something only she was meant to hear. "You don't have to live without asking anything of anyone, or try and pretend you don't want things. You can eat cake, or play games, or nap in the afternoon. I know you're a hard worker... so you can rest, too. I promise I won't think any less of you."
Erza felt something stir inside her, her thoughts blown astray by her Guild Master's words. She couldn't gather them together enough to reply, but he didn't seem to need that of her.
"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone, least of all me. So take care of yourself, Erza. Enjoy your life. You're still so young... there's too much in the world you have yet to even dream of. Wouldn't it be a shame to pass it by?"
She knew she was crying, and that her face was red. She knew it was embarrassing to let Makarov see her like this when he was already doing so much for her, but she couldn't help it. Erza cried, and her father stayed next to her with that same accepting smile.
She didn't manage to stop until they were on the bench by the river. Makarov agreed to have a bite so she wouldn't feel bad, but Erza ate the rest of the cake by herself.
"Was it good?" he asked, when she was finished wiping her eye.
"...it was delicious." she replied, truthfully.
"That's wonderful." Makarov grinned at her, hopping down.
They didn't talk about much in particular on the way back to Fairy Tail. They parted ways in the hall.
The next night, Erza bought herself a pair of pajamas. They were soft and fluffy, and she woke up the next morning startled by how comfy she was. A week later, she ate her cake in the bakery, with a cup of tea on the side.
A month later, she got in a fight with Mirajane over a small piece of candy at the guild hall, and no one shamed her for wanting it. The first time she brought a cake to Fairy Tail, the only trouble was keeping Grey and Natsu from stealing bites. She bought a magazine for herself, and then bought a dress she saw in it, simply because she thought it was pretty.
Little by little, she enjoyed herself. A slice of fancy cake. Soap scented like berries. A set of armor from a brand she adored. Pretty shoes. A long bath. A beautiful tea cup. Treasured things. Sweet things.
She never forgot... Not really. They always lingered in her mind and in her dreams. They couldn't share in her sweets, or wear pretty dresses, or buy beautiful armor... but she could imagine them sometimes, sitting in the hall of Fairy Tail.
Natsu would surely bully Shou, and Milliana would obsess over Happy. Simon would get along so well with Elfman, and Wally would find countless people to look up to. Jellal would be praised, with a gentle hand on his head and a warm smile.
Any of them could have been there, in her place. And in truth, she still wished it could've been them who escaped.
But if they had, if she had been the one left behind... She wouldn't hate them for living happily. She wouldn't resent them for smiling under the sun, even as she sunk beneath the waves.
She would have wanted them to buy the slice of cake.