Chapter Text
The air inside the tent was thick with the scent of healing herbs, bandages, and lingering traces of blood. Dim candlelight flickered against the canvas walls, casting long shadows over the two mages within. Outside, the muffled sounds of the battlefield’s remnants—the groans of the wounded, the rustling of feet against dirt, the distant murmurs of victory—seemed like echoes of a reality neither of them had fully processed yet.
Gray Fullbuster sat hunched over on the edge of the cot, staring at his hands. The knuckles were bruised, still carrying the weight of a fight that should have never happened. He exhaled slowly, the cool night air seeping in through the gaps in the tent, brushing against his bare skin.
Across from him, Erza Scarlet sat upright, despite the fresh bandages wrapped tightly around her arms. The pristine white cloth was already tinged with pink where wounds had seeped through, a reminder of the moment she had chosen to shield him—from Natsu, from himself.
He hadn’t meant for things to go that far. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.
A rustling sound broke the silence, and then Erza’s voice—calm but tired.
“I can’t believe we won.”
Gray lifted his head. Her tone was light, almost amused, but there was an exhaustion beneath it, one that settled deep into her bones. He knew that feeling. They had all pushed past their limits today, and now, in the silence, the weight of it all was finally catching up to them.
“…Yeah,” Gray muttered. His voice felt rough, unused. “Barely.”
Erza hummed in agreement, glancing down at her arms. Her fingers flexed experimentally, testing the tightness of the wrappings. “We were reckless,” she admitted. “But I suppose that’s nothing new.”
His gaze dropped back to his hands, his jaw tightening. It wasn’t just reckless. It was dangerous. And it was his fault.
She had blocked him. She had thrown herself between him and Natsu’s fire, bracing the impact with her own body—just to stop them from tearing each other apart.
“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he murmured, his voice low.
Erza blinked at him. “Let what happen?”
Gray hesitated. He could still see it—Natsu’s eyes, burning with fury. His own fists, clenched so tight they trembled. The fire, the ice, the violence of it all. And then, Erza between them. Arms raised. Shielding them from each other like they were reckless children.
He clenched his fists again, knuckles whitening as the memory seared through him. “The fight. You shouldn’t have had to throw yourself between us.”
Erza’s gaze sharpened, her usual composed expression hardening. “And if I hadn’t?” she asked, voice steady but edged with something sharper—frustration, maybe even anger.
Gray’s breath hitched. His jaw locked, but she wasn’t done.
“You and Natsu weren’t fighting, Gray. You were trying to destroy each other.” She leaned forward slightly, the dim light catching the bandages wrapped tightly around her arms. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if I hadn’t stopped you?”
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew the answer. He just didn’t want to say it. Natsu was strong—too strong when he lost himself to his emotions. And Gray… Gray knew the darkness in himself. He knew what his magic could do when he let go of reason. They both would have kept going, kept pushing until there was nothing left to break but each other.
Erza sighed again, softer this time. “You’re not the only one who lost control today.”
Gray shook his head. “That doesn’t make it better.”
She wasn’t downplaying it. She wasn’t brushing it aside. She was forcing him to look at it—at what he had done, at what could have happened.
“You weren’t thinking,” she continued, voice unwavering. “Neither of you were. And I know how Natsu is when he’s blinded by rage, but you—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re different. When you let go, it’s not just reckless, it’s cold. Calculated.”
Gray flinched.
She was right.
“I could see it in your eyes,” Erza said, quieter now but no less firm. “You weren’t just fighting him, Gray. You were ready to end it.”
Gray let out a slow, unsteady breath, running a hand through his hair. “I—” His voice caught, and he shook his head. “You’re right, I wasn’t thinking.”
“No,” Erza agreed. “You weren’t. And that’s exactly why I had to stop you.”
His shoulders tensed, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He hated that she had to do it. That she had to step in between them and take the damage he should have never let happen.
Her bandages were proof of his failure.
“I should have been the one protecting you,” he muttered, voice raw. “Not the other way around.”
Erza scoffed. “Do you really think that’s how this works?” She gestured at herself. “I make my own choices, Gray. I knew what I was doing.”
Gray shook his head. “Doesn’t change the fact that you got hurt because of me.”
Erza held his gaze, her eyes dark with something unreadable. “If I hadn’t stopped you, you would’ve done something you couldn’t take back. That would have hurt more than this.” She lifted her bandaged arm slightly. “This will heal. That wouldn’t.”
Gray exhaled shakily, pressing his palms together as if to ground himself.
She wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
A beat of silence. Then, Erza leaned back slightly, shifting her position carefully, her bandaged arms resting on her lap. Her fingers tensed for a moment before she finally spoke. “Juvia must be worried about you.”
Gray stiffened. The name hit him harder than he expected, dragging his thoughts somewhere darker, somewhere he had been trying to avoid. “Juvia…”
Erza gave him a knowing look. “She nearly died for you, Gray.”
His stomach twisted. He had known this already, of course. He had seen it, had felt the heat of the moment—the panic, the horror—when Juvia had sacrificed herself, choosing to save him like his life mattered more than her own. He had yelled her name, tried to reach her, but by the time the dust had settled, she was on the ground, blood dripping from her wounds.
She had fought for him.
And he still hadn’t given her an answer.
Gray exhaled, rubbing his face with one hand, his throat dry. “I know,” he muttered. “I know, Erza.”
“Then talk to her,” Erza said simply.
Gray glanced up, meeting her gaze. “It’s not that simple.”
Erza studied him, her expression unreadable. Then she shook her head. “It is.”
Gray let out a humorless chuckle. “You think it’s that easy to just… have the right words?”
“No,” Erza admitted. “But after what she did for you—after how hard she fought—you owe her an answer, Gray.” Her voice was quiet, but her gaze didn’t waver. “You can’t just pretend like it didn’t happen.”
Gray swallowed hard. He knew that. He knew he couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t ignore her. Juvia had been by his side, had loved him unconditionally, and yet… he had been running from it.
Because the truth was, he didn’t know what his answer was.
He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. “I never wanted her to get hurt because of me.”
Erza’s gaze softened slightly, but she didn’t look away. “And yet, she still chose to protect you.”
Gray clenched his jaw. “That’s the problem. People keep getting hurt because of me. Juvia. You.” His eyes flickered down to the fresh bandages on her arms, and guilt gnawed at his insides. He let out a slow, uneven breath. “I keep hurting the people who care about me.”
Erza’s expression shifted—not just concern, but something deeper, something unreadable. It wasn’t like her to hesitate, to let silence linger between them like this.
“That’s not true,” she said, but there was something off about the way she said it. Too quick. Too defensive.
Gray let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer right away.
The quiet between them stretched, heavy with things unsaid.
Then, finally, she exhaled. “If that were true… then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”
Gray’s breath caught.
She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, but it hit him harder than anything else tonight.
He looked at her—really looked at her. Erza Scarlet, wrapped in bandages, exhaustion evident in the way she sat, yet still strong, still steady, still here.
She had no reason to be here, sitting across from him, looking at him like this, not after everything. And yet, she was.
And suddenly, Gray wasn’t sure what scared him more—that he had almost lost her, or that she had chosen to stay.
“…I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Erza frowned slightly. “For what?”
He swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “For making you worry. For making you—” He hesitated, exhaling sharply, voice cracking slightly. “For being the reason you cry.”
Her eyes widened, just for a moment. A flicker of something—surprise, maybe.
“Gray…” she murmured.
She didn’t deny it.
And that made his chest tighten even more.
Because he had seen it—maybe not in the way others would, but he knew. He had seen the weight she carried, the moments she thought no one was looking, the way her eyes lingered just a second too long when someone she cared about walked away.
And today…
Today, that look had been for him.
“…You didn’t make me cry,” she finally said, her voice quieter now, but steady. “You didn’t.”
Gray scoffed, shaking his head. “I know what I saw.”
She held his gaze, unflinching. Then, after a pause, she sighed. “You’re right.”
Gray’s breath hitched slightly. He hadn’t expected her to admit it.
“But you’re wrong about the reason,” she continued. “I didn’t cry because of you. I cried because… I was afraid of losing you.”
Gray froze.
Because Erza Scarlet didn’t let herself cry. Not like that. Not unless it mattered.
And she was looking at him now like he mattered.
The realization made something twist deep in his gut, something he wasn’t ready to name.
“I would do it again, if it meant keeping you here.”
Gray’s heart pounded. The weight of that settled over him like something heavy, something unshakable. His throat tightened. His fingers curled into his palms, trying to steady himself, but it was useless. Because suddenly, things felt different—too raw, too close.
She had fought for him. Not because she had to. Not because it was just another battle.
Because it was him. Because losing him was something she hadn’t been willing to accept. The thought scared him. But it didn’t feel wrong.
He let out a slow breath, forcing a smirk. “…You’re too stubborn for your own good.”
Erza smiled faintly, and for the first time tonight, the exhaustion in her eyes didn’t seem so heavy. “So are you.”
Slowly, Gray let his shoulders relax, the tightness in his chest easing just a little.
Outside, the sounds of the battlefield had faded into something quieter—something resembling peace. And inside the tent, for the first time that night, Gray let himself believe in it.