(A/N: The Black Bullet arc is about to end. I'll just write a few more chapters because of my feelings… don't worry, the crossover is almost over.)
(T/N: Don't believe that bastard. I'll have to prepare a mass release for tomorrow just so we can return to Fairy Tail. So tomorrow there will be a big mass release—yeah, a forced one, because I know all of you want Fairy Tail back.)
(Hope you enjoy the story—have fun reading!)
— — — — — —
The next morning was bright and sunny.
Kazuma was, as usual, teaching the little lolis.
"Today we're covering something a bit harder. Listen carefully and ask if anything doesn't make sense."
As he spoke, Kazuma wrote a line on the blackboard.
"At thirty, a man stands. At forty, he has no doubts. At fifty, he understands his fate. At sixty, his ears see the truth. At seventy, he follows his heart.'"
"Does anyone know what this means?"
Kazuma glanced over the girls and asked.
"I know!" one of them called out.
"It basically means how a person's mentality changes as they go from young to old."
"Mm, that's one way to put it, but not complete."
"Let me explain what this really means."
"The power path has levels. The first stage is 'at thirty, a man stands.'"
"This means that unless thirty strong enemies show up, I don't even need to stand up to fight."
"The second stage, 'at forty, no doubts.' Even if forty enemies close in, I don't hesitate. I strike without a second thought."
"The third stage. Even if fifty enemies come, I already know they're doomed. Victory is fated for me. There's no fear, no wavering, because winning is simply my fate."
"The fourth stage. Even if sixty enemies show up, I can beat them so easily they'll be obedient like children, making them see the truth. Talking reason only works if you're strong enough to make people listen. Otherwise, your reasoning is useless."
"The fifth stage means that even if seventy enemies appear, I can fight however I want and still win."
"At this level, tactics and techniques don't matter anymore. You're so strong that anything works. Just follow your heart."
Kazuma lectured with full seriousness, and the lolis listened just as seriously.
"Guildmaster Onii-Chan, what if it's eighty people? Or a hundred? What do we do then?" Enju suddenly shot up and asked loudly.
"Good question," Kazuma said. "The highest level is defeating the enemy without even fighting."
"When you're so strong that your presence alone forces others to lower their heads and bow to you, then whether it's a hundred or two hundred people, it doesn't matter."
"In the end, the victor will always be me."
And Kazuma wasn't joking. He had an example.
Conqueror's Haki. When you're strong enough, small fry don't even have the right to approach you.
One hundred, two hundred, a thousand, two thousand… it's all pointless.
The girls took careful notes, memorizing every word.
"Is this… really right?" Rita tilted her head, looking from Kazuma's deadly serious expression to Tina, who was dozing off beside her.
This was completely different from anything they'd ever learned, yet paired with Kazuma's solemn face, it somehow… felt reasonable.
"Rita just joined. Jumping straight into the advanced stuff is probably tough. It's okay, you can ask us anything you don't get." Kayano spoke gently, walking over with her notebook and handing it to Rita and the others.
"We can start from the basics, like this line here," Kayo added, opening her own notes and pointing at an entry. "One must be rough to gain respect."
Rita read the line.
It explained: If you don't hit hard enough, you can't establish authority, so no one will fear you.
"If you only read the definition, it's confusing," Kayo explained. "You need real-life examples."
"Back when we first started taking missions a few months ago, a bunch of people tried to ambush us or refused to pay us."
"Whenever that happened, we handled it decisively. We killed them and put the bodies on display."
"It didn't take long before nobody dared try anything again. That's what 'One must be rough to gain respect' means. Easy, right?"
At first Kayo thought it sounded weird too. She even brought the book to Kazuma and asked what it meant.
Kazuma didn't answer her directly. He told her that what's written in books isn't meant to be memorized, but practiced.
So Kayo went to figure it out through real experience. Only then did she understand.
It was incredibly profound.
"That… actually makes sense," Rita admitted. If you weren't harsh enough, if you were soft-hearted, then nobody would fear you.
And without fear, they couldn't have authority.
"And here's another one. 'At death's door, his words are gentle yet false.' Literally, it means that when the enemy is about to be beaten to death, they'll start saying nice things to beg for mercy."
"Things like 'I was wrong, I won't do it again, please spare me.'"
"Or 'I have a hundred-year-old grandma, seventy-year-old mother, a bedridden wife, and some babies.'"
"'If you kill me, they'll all be left with no one to care for them, please spare me, I swear I won't do it again.'"
Kayo grew serious. "When the enemy says these things, you must never soften."
"They're not apologizing because they truly regret anything. They're apologizing because they know they're about to die."
"They have family, sure. But we have our sisters in the guild too. If we let them go, next time the one who dies might be us."
"So we can't afford mercy. Whether their whole family dies has nothing to do with us. They shouldn't have gone against us."
What she said were Kazuma's original words. He had said it even more bluntly:
"If he dies, he dies. His whole family dying has nothing to do with me. I don't know them. And if he was scared of dying, he shouldn't have provoked me in the first place."
"He brought this on himself. If I don't kill him, I'd feel embarrassed. Ask for death, get death."
"Mm. Yeah." Rita and the others nodded as they studied. At first it all felt strange, but as the lessons went on, they began to feel that these teachings had… depth.
The same line could have multiple interpretations in different situations.
This was knowledge they had never encountered before. No, this might even be forbidden knowledge from before the Gastrea outbreak.
...
"Helping each other and studying together… this is such a good atmosphere," Kazuma thought with satisfaction as he watched the girls crowd around their notes, excitedly learning. "When I'm gone someday, I won't have to worry about their studies at all."
He nodded, pleased. The Gil-style philosophy finally had its successors.
---
That afternoon came combat practice.
"Guildmaster! Yesterday I said I figured out a new way to use one of the Six Powers. Let me show you!" Fuse Midori ran up to Kazuma, eager to demonstrate her new technique.
"Go for it, Midori-chan!"
"You got this!"
"C'mon, you can do it!"
The girls cheered from the sidelines, but for someone as shy as Midori, all that attention was almost unbearable pressure.
"I… I can't let everyone down. I can do this. I have to do this!" she whispered to herself, taking a deep breath.
She moved to activate her Soru—a high-speed step technique—but her tension made her muscles lock up. She stumbled, the move failing.
"Uh… that kinda just looked like a normal Soru, didn't it?"
"Yeah, Midori-chan, what exactly did you change?"
"Nothing obvious. Or maybe it's so advanced that even my 210 IQ can't tell the difference?"
They weren't mocking her, but their puzzled looks still made Midori's face flush crimson. Her head dropped, and her eyes started to glisten.
Everyone had been so excited, and she'd messed it up.
She was still a long way from being a cool, capable big sister—still just a useless little fool.
"Midori, try again," Kazuma said gently, stepping forward. He took off her hat, ruffled her ears, and smiled.
"...Okay. Thank you, guildmaster onii-chan."
Feeling the warmth of his hand on her head, Midori took a deep breath, steadied herself, and tried again.
In the next instant, she vanished. No sound, no warning—just gone, and reappeared several meters away.
"Wait, that's still Soru, right? What are we supposed to be looking for?" Enju tilted her head, confused.
"It's Soru, but not the usual kind," Kayo said suddenly. "Didn't you notice? There was no sound."
Normally, Soru made a loud impact noise from the force of the movement. Midori's, however, was completely silent.
"That's it," Kayo said, eyes lighting up. "She developed a silent version—perfect for stealth combat."
Midori blushed, her hands fidgeting as she explained. "When I sparred with everyone, I realized that when someone uses Soru, the others can't keep up visually, so they rely on sound instead."
"They listen for the landing noise to guess where the enemy reappears. Even the slight sound before activation gives it away."
"Once you hear that distinct step, you know a Soru is coming. By the time you see the person vanish, it's already too late."
"So I wondered… what if I could make Soru completely silent?"
"After testing again and again, I found that if I combined Paper Art (Kami-e) with Soru, I could relax my whole body like a cat's paws absorbing impact. That way, I can move without making a sound."
Her cheeks were pink as she finished explaining, sneaking a glance at Kazuma, clearly hoping for approval.
"Nicely done," Kazuma said with a grin. "Write it down yourself. Everyone's going to be begging you to teach them."
He handed her a leather-bound notebook from his treasure trove.
"I'll do my best!" Midori said, her voice full of joy. She flipped through the pages, recognizing the names and techniques of her sisters. Finally, she reached a blank page. She looked up at Kazuma, as if to ask for permission.
He didn't speak—just nodded.
Bu took a deep breath and began to draw herself in the corner of the page, then carefully wrote out the research and training process behind Silent Soru.
When she finished, her chest swelled with pride. It wasn't just a technique—it was proof that she belonged. Her first step toward becoming a dependable big sister.
"Hmm… Midori, you missed something," Kazuma said, pointing at an empty space on the page.
"You forgot your name. If you don't sign it, how will people know it was your discovery?"
"My—my name? I can… I can really write my name there?!"
Her voice trembled, eyes wide in disbelief. She thought just being allowed to draw her little self-portrait was already enough. She never expected she'd be allowed to claim it as her own.
"Of course," Kazuma said warmly. "That page belongs to you now. Just like Enju's and Kayo's entries—it's proof of your hard work."
He guided her hand as they wrote her name together.
Midori stared at the inked letters for a long moment, a smile spreading across her face. Then the tears came—pure joy this time.
"Crying when you fail, crying when you succeed… you really are a little crybaby, huh?" Kazuma chuckled, pinching her nose lightly.
"I—I'm not!" she pouted, voice soft and playful.
But before she could recover, the others surrounded her—Enju, Kayo, Kayano—bombarding her with questions about her new technique.
Facing that wall of energy, Midori instantly reverted to her shy, stuttering self.
Kazuma couldn't help but laugh. "Such a warm, lively scene."
Just then, Tina walked over and quietly took his hand.
"Onii-chan," she asked, eyes wide and serious, "if I develop a new technique too… can I write my name in the book?"
"Of course," Kazuma said, ruffling her hair. "You're part of this family too. You and your sisters can all add your names if you want."
He chuckled to himself. After spending so much time with these girls, head-patting had practically become a reflex. Sometimes he didn't even notice doing it until his hand was already on someone's head. Muscle memory, literally.
Rita, who had been watching, came over too. She reached out and gently held Kazuma's finger, imitating Tina.
Compared to Tina, Rita was stronger—but she lacked something inside. She'd been trained to follow orders like a tool, not to think for herself, not to connect with others. She didn't even know what she wanted.
But lately, after spending time with everyone—learning, talking, watching—something inside her had begun to change.
"Lord K…" she started.
"Call me guildmaster, or Onii-Chan."
"…Guildmaster Onii-Chan," she repeated hesitantly.
"That works," Kazuma said, smiling wryly. At first, he'd just told them to use "guildmaster" during work instead of "onii-chan." Somehow, the two had fused into one. Now everyone called him "Guildmaster Onii-Chan." He still wasn't sure how that happened.
"Guildmaster Onii-Chan," Rita said seriously, "I heard you're really strong. I want to fight you—to test my combat data."
Back in her organization, every new recruit had to fight once. They called it "combat data testing," but everyone knew it was just forced combat between children.
"Fight, huh? Among our own people, that's not a fight—it's a spar, or a challenge. Fighting means life and death. Sparring means learning."
He smiled. "But sure. I'll play along."
.
.
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