Fairy Tail: Lost One

By the afternoon, the train squealed to a heavy halt at Crocus Station. Rudra, who had been fast asleep for the entire journey, felt a light tap on his shoulder.

"Rudra, wake up," Lucy said, nudging him gently. "We’re finally here."

Rudra let out a long, exhausted yawn, rubbed his eyes, and nodded. "Right... thanks, Lucy." He stood up, stretching his limbs, and slowly trailed behind the group as they headed toward the exit.

"Ugh... I swear, trains are a curse sent straight from hell," Natsu groaned from the back, clutching his mouth with both hands, his face a vivid shade of green. "Why did we have to take the train?"

Gray rolled his eyes, adjusting the strap on his bag. "You say that literally every single time we step onto a vehicle, flame-brain. Put a sock in it."

"Shut up, droopy-eyes... I’m dying over here," Natsu wheezed, letting out a muffled groan as he hobbled down the aisle.

"If you two start fighting before we even leave the platform, I will personally throw you both back on the train," Erza warned, her tone cool but laced with absolute authority.

"Aye, sir! They’ll be good!" Happy chimed in, hovering safely behind Erza.

As the guild members stepped off the train and onto the grand platform of Crocus, the ambient noise suddenly cut out. A dense, unnatural silence fell over the station, only to be replaced by a rising wave of hushed whispers.

"What’s with everyone staring?" Lucy muttered uneasily, glancing around at the dozens of eyes locked onto their group. "Did we do something wrong already?"

"I don’t think it’s us," Gray said, narrowing his eyes as he noticed the crowd shifting toward one specific spot.

The moment Rudra stepped off the final train step and into the sunlight, the quiet shattered.

"Hey, look! It’s him! The White-Haired Swordsman!"

"Is that really him?!"

"Hey, over here!"

Within seconds, a massive horde of citizens, fan clubs, and pushy reporters swarmed the platform, brandishing notebooks, cameras, and microphones, completely blocking the path.

"Rudra! How does it feel to be back in Crocus?" a reporter yelled over the din. "Are the rumors about you not participating in the Grand Magic Games true?"

At the same time, another reporter shoved his camera forward. "Is it true that before the dark mages’ attack on the capital, you also saved Princess Hisui?"

"Wait, what white-haired swordsman?!" Natsu blurted out, suddenly forgetting his motion sickness as he tried to push through the mob. "Hey! Move out of the way! We’re Fairy Tail!"

Everyone ignored him completely, every eye in the crowd fixed on Rudra, waiting for an answer.

Rudra sighed, casually ignoring a microphone shoved inches from his nose. He turned his head toward the group, completely unfazed by the chaos surrounding him.

"You guys go ahead," Rudra said calmly over the loud shouts. "I’ll join up with you at the inn later."

"Wait, Rudra! Hold on—" Erza called out, reaching a hand forward.

Before anyone could stop him, space itself began to warp around Rudra. A violent, swirling spiral engulfed his body, twisting his form into a single point in the air before he vanished without a trace.

"...And he’s gone just like that," Gray muttered, deadpan.

The group turned back toward the reporters, half-expecting more questions — only to watch the entire crowd turn away and shuffle off, looking thoroughly dejected.

"Hey, what the hell?!" Natsu shouted after them. "Aren’t you gonna interview us?"

One of the reporters glanced back over his shoulder. "No, we already did one with your guild master. We know the full roster for the upcoming games."

"Besides," another added, "Rudra’s been the hot topic in the capital for months now — he’s who we actually wanted."

With that, the crowd dispersed entirely, leaving only the guild and the other disembarking passengers scattered along the platform.

Erza let out a short breath, crossing her arms. "Let’s go."

Everyone fell in behind her, leaving the baffled swarm of reporters to scramble over themselves on the station platform.

____

Meanwhile, high above the bustling streets of Crocus, atop a quiet, sunlit hill near a towering oak tree, space began to twist and buckle. A violent spatial distortion rippled through the air as the Kamui portal opened, spiraling inward before Rudra stepped smoothly onto the soft grass. The loud noise of the city below faded into a faint, distant hum, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves overhead.

Rudra stood still for a moment, letting the cool breeze sweep through his white hair. He turned his gaze toward the shadow of the large tree, where a simple, weathered stone marked a lonely grave.

He approached the site slowly. Bending down until his knee touched the grass, he looked at the worn inscription on the marker: Cecile.

"Hey," Rudra murmured softly, his voice barely carrying over the wind. "It’s me."

He fell silent for a long moment, staring down at the earth as memories drifted through his mind. The chaotic city below felt a million miles away.

"I’m back in the capital," he continued quietly, breaking the stillness. "So... I thought I’d come visit you first."

He extended his right hand, palm upward over the grave. Chakra flickered faintly around his fingers, coursing through his skin. From the center of his hand, a small, vibrant flower rapidly sprouted, blooming into full, brilliant color within seconds.

Rudra carefully placed the freshly grown flower at the base of the headstone, adjusting it gently so the wind wouldn’t carry it away. He rested his hand on top of the stone for one final, silent second before standing up to his full height.

"I’ll see you around," he whispered.

Turning his back to the hill, Rudra shoved his hands into his pockets and began a slow descent back toward the bustling heart of Crocus.

"So. What’s the plan now?" The System’s voice echoed in his mind, crisp and unbidden.

"Let’s see," Rudra thought, letting his Observation Haki bloom outward. The invisible pulse swept across the capital, blanketed the grand architecture, and sifted through tens of thousands of souls in a single beat.

He walked in silence, sorting through the overwhelming wave of impressions. "It’s weird," he murmured mentally. "Everything feels... normal. No demonic signatures, no dark magic, nothing that even reads as suspicious." He paused, his focus narrowing on two distinct anomalies buried in the background noise. "Just two signatures stand out — and they belong to Future Lucy and Rogue."

"Huh." The System’s tone shifted, growing thoughtful. "You’re right. The capital feels strangely quiet for a place supposed to be crawling with a disastrous plot."

Rudra shrugged, his hands staying deep in his pockets.

"Or maybe," the System hummed, "whatever Mundus was planning, he took one look at you arriving in town and decided to call off the whole evil scheme."

"Or maybe they’re just patient."

Silence settled between them — comfortable, worn, and familiar in the way only an old partnership could manage. The ambient noise of Crocus swelled around him with every step: vendors barking daily prices, children darting through the crowd, the sharp blare of a festival horn echoing from the central plaza.

He was three paces from stepping through the outer gate when the System’s voice cut back in, laced with sudden, exaggerated alarm. "Hold on. What on earth do you think you’re doing?"

Rudra tilted his head, genuinely bewildered. "...Walking?"

"In broad daylight? Looking like that?" A heavy, dramatic pause followed. "If you stroll into that plaza right now, half the city’s going to spot you. You’ll be right back in the middle of that train station nightmare."

The memory of swarming reporters, flashing lacrimas, and microphones shoved into his face resurfaced all at once. Rudra stopped dead in his tracks, rubbing the back of his neck. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Forgot about that."

"You forgot about the mob that almost trampled you twenty minutes ago?" the System deadpanned. "Remarkable memory, truly."

"Shut up."

Without another word, Rudra crouched and sprang, clearing the street in a silent blur. He landed lightly on the nearest terracotta roof, barely startling a resting pigeon, before vaulting off the ridge. Building to building, ledge to ledge, he moved in a loose, effortless rhythm high above the unsuspecting crowds.

"You know," the System mused as the wind whipped past his coat, "for someone who claims to detest attention, you certainly spend a lot of time as the main attraction."

"It finds me. I don’t look for it."

"Right. Keep telling yourself that, ’White-Haired Swordsman.’"

"I will literally erase you."

"Good luck with that. I live in your skull."

Rudra didn’t bother offering a retort, simply accelerating his pace across the skyline.

Dropping into the quiet alleyway, Rudra smoothed his jacket and stepped out onto the cobblestones, easing into a casual stroll as he pushed through the inn’s front door.

Inside, the guild hall was surprisingly subdued. Only a handful of members were scattered around the tables, talking in low voices. Near the main counter sat Master Makarov, perching on a stool with an oversized wooden tankard balanced in his grip.

As Rudra approached, Makarov took a long swig, setting the mug down with a clatter before turning his heavy gaze toward him.

"You’re just in time, brat," Makarov grunted. He reached into his coat, pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, and slid it across the counter. "Head to this address. The second Fairy Tail team is already gathered there waiting for you."

Rudra picked up the note, flicking it open to glance at the location. With a subtle flick of his wrist, a tiny spark ignited the paper, reducing it to ash before the cinders even hit the floor. "Got it," he replied with a sharp nod, turning right back out the door.

By the time he reached the second inn, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the Crocus sky in deep shades of crimson and violet. He pushed open the heavy wooden door to find Laxus, Gajeel, Juvia, and Mirajane gathered in the lobby.

The moment the door swung wide, Mirajane’s face lit up. She glided across the floor toward him, a warm, beaming smile breaking across her face. "Oh, Rudra! You made it just in time."

"Did I miss the fun already?" Rudra asked, leaning back slightly as she closed the distance.

"Nothing silly," Mira chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling. "We still have plenty of time until midnight before the Grand Magic Games officially kick off."

"Good. Last thing I needed was to get disqualified for being late."

"Come on, let me show you to your room," Mira said naturally, wrapping her arm around his with a happy, familiar ease and tugging him toward the stairs.

A few feet away, Laxus stood with his arms crossed, watching the exchange. His jaw tightened, and static began to spit and hiss faintly off his shoulders, a stray crack of lightning snapping between his clenched fingers before he forced it still. He’d returned after months away himself, only to get a brief, polite nod from her—yet here she was, glowing just because Rudra walked through the door. Without a word, Laxus turned on his heel and stormed up the stairwell, the air behind him smelling faintly of ozone.

Gajeel leaned against a nearby pillar, watching Laxus’s retreating back with a skeptical squint. "The hell is his problem?" he muttered, scowling. "Why’s he so damn grumpy?"

Juvia folded her hands together, watching Rudra and Mira disappear up the steps with a dramatic sigh. "Trust Juvia, Gajeel... you really don’t want to dig into that complex web of emotions." She shook her head solemnly before turning toward the hallway. "Come. We should rest before midnight."

Soon after, Mira led him to his room, lingering in the doorway for a moment. "Get some rest before the Games start," she said, offering a small smile before heading off toward her own room.

Rudra nodded, and the second the door clicked shut behind her, he flopped face-first onto the bed and closed his eyes.

What felt like seconds later, a sharp knock rattled the door.

"Rudra! The preliminary round for the Grand Magic Games is about to start!"

"I’m up," he called back, voice muffled against the pillow. He pushed himself upright, rubbing at his eyes, and was halfway to the washbasin when it hit him.

He froze mid-step.

Demonic energy.

His observation haki caught it — faint, barely a flicker at the edge of his senses, but unmistakable all the same. Small. Distant. But real.

"Well, that’s new," the System murmured.

Rudra didn’t answer. He raised a hand and formed a quick seal. In a puff of smoke, a shadow clone solidified beside him, identical down to the bags under its eyes.

"You know what to do," Rudra said.

"Don’t worry, boss. I got it," the clone replied, already stretching and heading for the door as if it had been the one napping all along.

By the time the clone reached for the doorknob, Rudra was already gone.

He tore through the streets of Crocus at a speed that turned him into little more than a smear against the darkened rooftops, following the thread of that faint signature toward its source. It took only seconds to arrive — but when he landed, the alley was empty. No demonic energy. No trace of anything at all.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, scanning the shadows. "Where—"

"Rudra? What are you doing out here?"

He turned. Lisanna stood a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself against the night chill, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the preliminary trial?"

He ignored the question. "What are you doing out here this late?"

Her expression shifted instantly, worry replacing confusion. "It’s Wendy — and Carla. They’ve been missing for almost an hour. Everyone’s out searching."

Something in Rudra’s eyes went cold. In the chaos of his arrival, he had completely forgotten about this—the canonical attack by Raven Tail to incapacitate Fairy Tail’s Sky Dragon Slayer before the games even began.

Before Lisanna could say another word, he vanished.

He reappeared moments later, Wendy cradled in one arm and Carla in the other, both unconscious, both bearing fresh, ugly bruises.

"Wendy! Carla!" Lisanna’s scream tore out of her as she rushed forward. "What happened? Who did this—"

Rudra caught her wrist before she could reach them. The world spun, colors smearing into streaks — and then it stopped. She was standing in front of the inn.

He kicked the door open hard enough to crack against the wall. "We have an emergency. I need a healer, now."

Every head in the room snapped toward him, half-risen out of their seats to demand an explanation — until they saw what he was carrying, and the words died in every throat at once.

____

By the time the preliminary round had come and gone, Wendy’s eyes finally fluttered open, Carla stirring beside her a moment later. The room around them was a wall of anxious faces, all talking at once, all asking the same thing.

"Easy, easy." Makarov raised a hand, quieting the room before crouching beside her bed, his voice gentle but firm. "Wendy. Can you tell us who did this to you?"

Wendy’s small hands trembled against the blanket. "I... I don’t know. They just—they attacked us. I don’t know why."

"It’s alright." Makarov patted her shoulder gently. "If you don’t remember, that’s alright. We’ll find out who did this ourselves."

"You don’t need to look for them."

Every eye in the room turned toward the doorway, where Rudra stood, arms crossed, his face utterly unreadable. "I already know who attacked her."

A beat of silence. Nobody dared ask how.

Rudra crossed the room and crouched beside Wendy’s bed, and for just a moment, the coldness melted away entirely, replaced by something almost warm. "Get some rest," he said, smiling faintly. "Make sure you watch tomorrow’s match."

Wendy managed a small, shaky nod.

Straightening, Rudra turned back toward the door. By the time his back was to the room, the smile had already vanished — his expression settling back into that same flat, cold stillness, eyes distant with something none of them could name.