Chapter 13: The Old Rascal
"Thunk!"
Natsu faceplanted straight into the floor, jerking awake from sleep. He scrambled to his feet in a panic, even wiping the drool from his chin.
"Forget it, let's just call it a day."
Moen couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head in amused exasperation. He decided to let Natsu off the hook—though honestly, there was no other choice. The kid had barely been meditating for two minutes before he completely zonked out.
"Awesome!"
The moment Natsu heard the word "done", he instantly came back to life. He sprang to his feet and shot out of the room like a rocket—completely forgetting that he had just been asleep a second ago.
"This kid…"
Moen sighed with a helpless smile. Trying to get that boy to sit still was practically impossible. Wild as ever, just like he grew up in the wilderness.
"Natsu's... very energetic."
Levy covered her mouth to stifle a giggle, her eyes sparkling. Very few people could leave Moen this speechless—Natsu was one of them.
"Time to go. Levy, want me to walk you back?"
After tidying up the study room a bit, Moen turned to the girl who had been helping him this whole time.
"It's okay, Moen-nii. I can go back on my own. The dorm isn't far, so don't worry! Iama wizard, you know."
Levy blushed slightly and waved her hands in refusal. Then, after quickly saying goodbye, she darted off—her short legs working overtime as she almost ran out the door.
Moen didn't insist. After all, the Fairy Tail girls' dorm was pretty close—just a short walk up the hill, past a few houses. It was actually closer than Moen's own place and took less than ten minutes on foot.
The boys' dorm was farther away, but Natsu? No worries there. That kid could survive in the wild even as a preteen. With his strength, even if a group of grown wizards ganged up on him, they'd end up getting pummeled instead.
The Fairy Tail guild dorms weren't free—in fact, they were considered expensive, running at 100,000 J per month. For comparison, renting a decent house outside would cost about 70,000 J.
But the dorms were definitely worth the price—luxurious, convenient, and far better maintained than most rental housing.
That said, before wizards had the ability to earn their own income, the guild covered dorm costs out of humanitarian concern.
After all, you couldn't expect a five- or six-year-old orphan to cough up 100,000 J a month. That amount was no small sum for ordinary people—only trained wizards could afford it comfortably.
Now, kids like Natsu, Gray, Erza—even Cana, Levy, Jet, and Troy—had all started learning magic. They could take on simple jobs and start earning.
Sooner or later, they'd need to start paying rent themselves.
That was the cost of growing up—the carefree days were slowly slipping away.
After leaving the study room, Moen locked the door behind him. It was already close to 10 p.m. The guild hall was pitch-black and deserted. If nothing special was going on, the place wouldn't stay open at night.
Even Grandpa Makarov would lock the doors and head home by now.
Because of his dedication to training, Moen often lost track of time during meditation. He was always the last to leave the guild each night. That's why he had taken it upon himself to handle locking up at night—and opening the doors in the early Moening too.
In a way, he was lightening the workload for Grandpa Makarov.
After making a round through the guild and confirming that no one was left, Moen was ready to head out.
"Last one out again. Another day well spent."
Tossing the key up into the air and catching it repeatedly, Moen smiled and gave himself a little pep talk.
"Moen."
Suddenly, a voice echoed from the pitch-black guild hall. Moen froze mid-step, his entire body tensing instantly.
But once he recognized who it was, his shoulders relaxed, and he looked toward the corner of the room with an exasperated expression.
Sure enough, sitting at a table in the shadows was a tiny figure—not much taller than Levy.
"Grandpa Makarov... Seriously, you're going to give someone a heart attack sneaking around like that."
That small figure was none other than Makarov Dreyar—the Third Master of Fairy Tail, one of the legendary Ten Wizard Saints, and both Moen's and Laxus's grandfather.
"Hahaha! Did I scare you? My bad, my bad!"
Makarov leapt down from his chair and strolled up to Moen, still laughing heartily.
He wore a jester's cap with little horns, his wrinkled face beaming with childlike glee. He didn't look imposing at all—just like the mischievous old man next door.
"You were hiding your presence on purpose. Of course I'd get scared!"
Moen had been spooked. After all, he had just done a full sweep of the guild and confirmed no one was around. For Makarov to suddenly speak up like that—yeah, he was definitely doing it on purpose.
With his level of power, hiding from Moen was child's play. All he had to do was sit quietly in a corner, and it was like he'd vanished.
"Haha, don't be mad. Come on, let's go home."
Makarov wore the satisfied grin of a prank well-played. He really was like a kid in an old man's body—no sense of seniority, always joking around, even sitting with the younger members at meals and joining in their games.
That phrase "old child" fit him perfectly.
"Alright, let's go."
Moen didn't really get upset. He was used to this side of his grandfather. In fact, he found it rather endearing.
Makarov's approachable nature made him beloved by everyone in the guild. No matter what issue someone had, they felt comfortable turning to him.
Yet at the same time, his immense power and widespread fame commanded deep respect. No one ever looked down on him for his height or personality.
This unique leadership style—being a friend to all, yet still a revered master—was far superior to those who ruled through fear or authority alone.
Makarov was the soul of Fairy Tail. The guild's culture and spirit were shaped by his hands. He was, without question, an exceptional Guild Master.
Moen, who aspired to one day lead the guild himself, saw many of Makarov's traits as worthy of emulation. Though the old man had his flaws, he had countless strengths worth learning from.
As the two of them walked out of the guild, chatting and laughing along the way, Moen locked the doors behind him—officially closing Fairy Tail for the day.
"Did you and Laxus argue again?"
While walking along the dim path, lit only by a softly floating magic orb conjured by Makarov, the old man asked with rare seriousness.
"We didn't fight. I just... tried talking to him again."
Moen's voice was quiet as he replied, eyes fixed on the glowing orb ahead. Makarov was a master of many types of magic—including this gentle, illuminating one.