Leon settled into a quiet corner of the guild hall, keeping his back to the wall and his eyes on the chaos. It was everything he remembered from the anime, but louder, messier, and so much more real up close.
"So... this is Fairy Tail, huh," Leon muttered to himself. "Definitely not boring."
He pulled his coat tighter around him. He wasn't cold—just still grounding himself. Being around so many powerful mages, even if they were acting like rowdy kids at recess, was a little surreal. He hadn't even been here an hour and already nearly got into a brawl with Laxus. Great first impression.
He wasn't a member yet. Not officially. Master Makarov was out on some kind of business, and until he returned, Leon was just... here. A guest. A maybe.
Still, no one seemed to mind. If anything, the guild was too busy being themselves to care.
Across the hall, a pink-haired blur zipped into view.
"Yo!" came a voice—loud, fiery, and way too enthusiastic.
Leon looked up to see a pink-haired guy grinning at him like they'd been friends since childhood.
"You're new!" Natsu Dragneel beamed. "What's your name?"
"Leon," he said cautiously. "I just got here. Jus"
Natsu grinned like that was the best answer possible. "Nice. We should totally spar once you join."
"Assuming he ever does," another voice cut in. Gray Fullbuster appeared with his shirt already halfway off, as if it was allergic to staying on. He eyed Leon curiously. "You thinking about joining?"
Leon gave a nod. "Yeah. Waiting for Master Makarov to get back."
Natsu gave him a thumbs-up. "You'll love it here. Well, unless you hate fun. Or explosions."
Gray rolled his eyes. "Or Natsu."
That kicked off the usual Natsu-Gray chaos—shouting, shoving, and someone getting dropkicked across a table. Leon just watched, half-stunned and half-amused.
Leon just sat there, watching the chaos unfold. Mirajane strolled by with a tray of fresh drinks like this was all totally routine.
"Do they do this every day?" he asked her as she passed.
"Pretty much," she said with a giggle. "You'll get used to it."
Then a bottle went whizzing past his head.
"Guess that was bound to happen," he muttered.
The bottle smacked into someone's head across the room—a tall, broad-shouldered Earth Magic user who looked like he could lift a cart with one arm and still complain that it was too light.
The guy turned slowly, cracked his neck, and fixed a death glare in Leon's general direction.
Leon blinked. "...Seriously?"
"You throwin' bottles at people now, newbie?" the man growled, stomping his way over.
"I was literally just sitting here."
"Oh, so I'm imagining things now?!"
Leon opened his mouth to respond, but by that point, the man was already charging. Great.
Before he could react, a flying ice fist clocked the guy in the face.
Gray appeared behind him, shaking out his hand. "Oops. Thought that was Natsu."
From somewhere else in the room:
"Did someone say my name?!"
And then there was fire.
Just like that, the whole guild exploded into chaos. Again. Tables flipped. Drinks flew. Someone—why was it always Elfman?—started yelling about being a man.
Leon ducked a flying bench, stood, and instinctively raised his hand. Shadows flared beneath his feet. Two familiar forms—Wooly and Vulcan—emerged beside him, their presence flickering with dark, controlled energy.
"Oh no no no," Leon muttered. "I'm not even a member yet!"
Still, Wooly body-blocked a flung keg like it was part of his job description, and Vulcan yeeted an airborne mage back into a pile of barrels.
Mirajane was suddenly beside him, perfectly composed despite the chaos around them. "You fit in already," she said cheerfully, as Natsu flew over their heads.
Just as Leon was about to reply, the front doors burst open—and in walked Master Makarov, looking no taller than a gnome but carrying the energy of someone who could level a city if he felt like it.
He took one look at the room, sighed deeply, and shouted, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING?"
Everything froze.
Even Wooly paused mid-headbutt.
Leon turned slowly, eyes meeting the tiny old man's gaze.
Makarov blinked up at him. "Who's this one?"
Leon hesitated. "Uh… Leon Ashborn. Waiting to join?"
Makarov squinted. "You in this mess?"
Leon gestured to the chaos around them. "Technically... I was defending myself."
Makarov raised an eyebrow. Then he grinned. "You'll fit right in."
Once the chaos finally settled—if you could call broken furniture, spilled booze, and several knocked-out mages "settled"—Makarov floated up onto a table like the angry grandpa he truly was. Arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed so hard they could cut glass.
"Ahem," he cleared his throat, and somehow the entire room fell silent. Even Natsu, who had Gray in a headlock, paused mid-choke.
Makarov scanned the damage like a disappointed landlord.
"Y'know, I step out for five minutes—FIVE MINUTES—and I come back to a bar fight, two shadow creatures, and half the guild hall turned into scrap wood." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I swear, you lot have the attention span of a toddler with a fire lacrima."
Then his eyes landed back on Leon.
"And you." He pointed with a tiny finger. "Didn't you say you were waiting to join? This is your first day, and you're already brawling?"
Leon raised a hand sheepishly. "Technically, I was brawled into."
The guild chuckled. Makarov just gave a long, tired sigh and rubbed his temples.
"Well, congratulations, you survived your unofficial initiation. That's more than I can say for half the furniture in here." He hopped down from the table and walked up to Leon.
"You've got decent control over that magic of yours… and from what I saw, you've got restraint too. We need more of that around here." He glanced meaningfully at Natsu and Gray, who were now trying to quietly separate like guilty kids in class.
"So, what's your answer?" Makarov asked, looking up at Leon. "You sure you still want in, even after all this?"
Leon looked around—at the grinning faces, the bruises, the mayhem—and then down at Wooly, who was proudly holding a busted chair like it was a trophy.
He smirked. "Yeah. I'm sure."
Makarov gave a small nod, his tone shifting into something more serious—but proud. "Then raise that head of yours, boy."
Leon stood tall.
"Here in Fairy Tail," Makarov declared, his voice rising above the room, "we don't care where you came from. We care about where you're going. We fight together, laugh together… and when things get tough—"
Everyone, like it was instinct, shouted in perfect unison:
"WE'RE NOT ALONE!"
A rush of something warm hit Leon in the chest.
Makarov looked at Mirajane. "Mirajane, if you'd do the honors?"
She beamed and walked over with the stamp, holding up the guild mark. "Where do you want it? And what color?"
Leon glanced down at his arm, then smirked. "Left shoulder. Blue please."
A soft flash of magic, and just like that—the Fairy Tail emblem blazed to life on his skin.
The guild exploded with cheers, someone uncorked a bottle of something fizzy and absolutely not regulation-safe, and Natsu immediately shouted, "Time for the real initiation—FOOD FIGHT!"
Leon barely ducked as a flying bread roll zipped past his ear.
And in that moment, covered in crumbs, surrounded by chaos, and grinning like an idiot…
He knew he was home.